The Way You Make Me Feel
by vermilionRED
Summary: FDHG, v. OOC, slightly AU, postHogwarts. You make my blood boil, she murmured, you make my heart race. You set me on fire in places that should never burn.
1. Prologue

The Way You Make Me Feel

Author's Note: Rated PG-13/R It's July 5 and I'm lonely and bored. But. Anyway. Harry Potter does not belong to me, it belongs to J.K. Rowling, so don't sue me.

PROLOGUE

2000 A.D.

People often assume that I live a perfect life. They assume that only beautiful, perfect, wealthy people (not unlike myself) surround me; that I live in a plastic doll house fantasy. My life to them is a flawless dream, immortalized by their hero-worship of me. Only once in my life have I ever encountered someone or something that I could not have simply my forcing my lips upward into a smile. And it was her; one Hermione Granger. Who would have ever believed that I, of all people, would be attracted to one such as her? Short, with plain, frizzy brown hair, plain, simple brown eyes, and a nose seemingly glued to a page in a book. There was nothing out of the ordinary about her looks. But her witty retorts, her sharp sarcasm were all new to me. As was the feeling that stirred deep in the pits of my belly every time she walked by.

I was seventeen and it was my seventh and final year in school, and her fourth when I came to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. I saw her in the Great Hall, saw her purple-faced, freckled, ogle-eyed friend gawk at me as I swaggered over to their table and asked for their bouillabaisse. Saw her great look of contempt shoot in my direction like a pointed arrow aimed to kill. I felt my lips naturally raise into a charming smile to blind and stun then, a shadow of a frown flickering across my face as I saw that she was the only one not affected. That she was the only person glaring hatred at me. I felt a tingle in my chest as my eyes locked with hers. Plain, dull, boring yet, the most stunning and dazzling eyes I had ever seen.

I returned that night to the Beauxbatons carriage, feeling light- headed and dazed. I lay in my bed, staring blankly at the roof of the carriage, not beyond wondering if the food had been poisoned or fouled in some manner. And I found myself vaguely wondering why I was so drawn to her. Maybe it was because everyone else loved me. Everyone else's eyes glazed over when I approached them. And all everyone else ever did when I spoke was smile, nod, and stare blankly. Whereas she, Hermione, she hated me, her eyes were always sharply focused, and she has yet to smile at me. It seemed as if she actually heard me when I spoke to her, like her brain was functioning and she could make sense of what I was saying.

I inhaled the lavender smell of my pillow, rolling over restlessly. I forced my eyes to shut and tried to clear my mind of the buzz of thought that filled it. Then my eyes snapped open as I remembered what my grandmother had told to me as a child.

"The one who hates you most is the only one who can truly love you."

Of course. Why had I not realized it before? It was true. The charm affected everyone but her. She was the only one of all of them who ever heard me. It didn't matter to me that she was a girl. I couldn't have cared less. I felt desire burning in me, and clutching at my pillow, I smiled. I wanted her. I had to have her.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I still own nothing. U_U;; Friend of mine is working on an HP fic. She has like, 44 reviews. That's depressing. Mine can never seem to get that many. You know why? Because not enough people read Femslash. Because everybody reads Slash. ;__; That's so terribly depressing. Anyway. I own nothing. If you're nice and review, I might actually work on this and eventually finish it.

Chapter 1

July 2004 A.D.

I sighed, leaning forward on my elbows, inhaling the airy smell of Paris, smiling blandly at myself. I had tired of the hustle and bustle of the office, irked by the constant demand for an Auror, irritated by the crowded space in which I was forced to work, and annoyed with the people who dared call themselves my equal or better: namely my co-workers and my boss. I had decided to leave the office to go to my favorite little café on the streets of Paris and mingle with the oblivious muggles.

I stared deep into the black abyss that was my coffee, finding myself idly wondering why I ordered it, as I didn't even like coffee. I groaned inwardly, wondering if I had the energy or will power to bat my eyelashes at the waiter to get myself a free replacement drink of tea. However, finding that I didn't, I simply crossed my legs, resting my chin against the back of my hand lightly, looking out over the bustling streets, watching the people pass me by, many sparing me a second glance. I chuckled quietly. Even muggles found themselves drawn to me.

A slight breeze blew my hair into my face, temporarily obscuring my view. When the wind settled, my hair fell back down to frame my face, and what I saw made my eyes go wide and my cheeks flush. I felt the very breath leaving my body.

Hey pretty baby with the high heels on

You give me fever

Like I've never, ever known

You're just a product of loveliness

I like the groove of your walk,

Your talk, your dress

She had shoulder-length, slightly wavy brown hair, the most perfect almond- shaped honey brown eyes, and sweetly tanned skin. She wore hooped earrings, ivory white high heels, an almost mortally sinful short lavender sundress, and a confident though barely visible smile. Her hips swung slightly while she walked, and the light Paris breeze toyed with her hair, wrapping it lightly about her face, neck, and shoulders. I almost forgot to breathe.

That is, until I saw the tall, red-haired, freckled, laughing man walking next to her. He was wearing horribly mismatched clothes, as was their other companion; a slightly shorter, though more built man with messy raven black hair that was almost distastefully so, peridot green eyes, and a petite blonde clinging to his arm. The blonde had slicked back hair, almost the same shade as my own, mirthful gray eyes, an arrogant smirk, and a pale complexion. And the outfit the blonde was wearing matched to a perfect 'T'. The blonde, to say the least, was rather good-looking. For a man.

My eyes narrowed, staring at the four of them, and suddenly, something in my head clicked so loudly is resonated through my skull. I swiveled my eyes towards the black-haired man's forehead, searching for a familiar lightning bolt shaped scar that I, personally, think he should have either surgically removed or bleached to fade. And there it was, hovering over his right eyebrow. I shook my head at myself.

"Of course, Fleur. Who else would it be?" I muttered to myself.

I lifted my coffee cup to my lips, taking a slow sip, nearly choking on the hot liquid when I saw the girl heading in my direction , the three men in tow. I watched her as intently as a starved cat would watch a mouse. I licked my lips, chuckling as she waltzed right past me, not even giving me a second glance. I stood, pushing my chair in and walking over to her, resting my hand lightly on the small of her back, laughing quietly when she jumped.

"Bon jour, Mademoiselle Granger," I purred, smiling at her.

Her eyes went wide and she blushed, seemingly stumbling on her words instead of having an instant retort. I raised my left eyebrow, the fact that she seemed almost unnerved and could not speak absolutely blowing my mind. So she was human, after all.

"F-fleur?" she stuttered, staring up at me.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek, fighting the nearly overwhelming temptation to lightly stroke the bare skin of her back with my fingers. The heat and softness of her skin did not at all help the matter. I smiled down at her, laughing deep in my throat.

"The one and only," I responded, finally letting my hand leave the skin of her back.

"Nice to finally see you again," she said, much more composed this time around, brushing an invisible speck of dust off her dress.

"And you," I replied, "and you as well, Monsieur Potter. And if I remember Weasley, correct?"

Harry smiled. Ron purpled, swallowing a suddenly gigantic lump in his throat and smiling sheepishly at me, scratching the back of his head and laughing like an idiot. I laughed, shaking my head slightly. Some boys never really grow up. I turned my eyes to the blonde who was still clinging to Potter almost protectively. I remembered a little boy like him at Hogwarts, arrogant smirk and all. And of course, I had read about him and Potter in the Daily Prophet, which I had a subscription to.

"Draco Malfoy, I presume?" I said, eyeing him coolly.

"Indeed, yes. The one and only, in your words. The fabulous Fleur are you doing? I've read all about you in those fashion magazines, how you design clothes in your spare time and model. My, a busy woman!" he twittered.

I suppressed a loud laugh. He was quite possibly the gayest thing I had ever encountered in my entire lifetime. At first glance, he really didn't seem to be the bouncy, talkative type. Obviously, I was very wrong. I decided that I would give the poor boy a break, however, ceasing his twittering when I began to speak again.

"I've read about you and Harry in the Daily Prophet," I began.

I saw the obvious tension seize all of four of them, especially Harry and Draco, as the two clasped their hands together tightly. I saw a muscle in Harry's jaw twitch.

"And?" he said, raising an eyebrow at me.

I shrugged airily, smiling, flashing white teeth at them.

"I think that there should be more openly gay wizards and witches. It shows diversity. You two make a very cute couple. The best of luck to you," I said, watching them all relax visibly.

I found it disturbing how oddly quiet Hermione was being, and how she almost fidgeted when I asked them all to sit and have tea with me. We all sat together, Hermione and I next to each other. I felt the heat radiate from her body and I suppressed a shiver, striking up a conversation.

"So, what's the news from Hogwarts and around the area?" I asked them, watching Ron turn a frightening shade of magenta when I crossed my legs, and I assumed he had either seen my legs due to my skirt, or my foot had brushed him in passing.

I frowned slightly, regretting that he was so smitten.

"Oh, well, you 's still all broken up about Cedric, even though it's been years now, Dumbledore's still in charge, and Snape finally got the Defense Against the Dark Arts position he's been pining for for him! The Ministy of Magic finally found my father out and chucked him in Azkaban, thank God, because of his being a Death Eater and all. And then there's the whole thing with Hermione's interest in wo-" Draco was saying, waving his hand girlishly at every other word, when Hermione's hand suddenly shot out of seemingly nowhere, stifling his running mouth.

"Draco, please!" she hissed warningly at him.

He leered at her playfully.

"It's just 'cause she's so close to you, Hermy-dear," he giggled.

I wondered if I had ever heard a man giggle before that moment, but shrugged it off, interest piqued in what Draco had been saying, and what he meant by some woman being so close to Hermione. I grinned impishly at Hermione, daring to rest my head lightly against her shoulder for a second. I felt her stiffen under my touch, but I persisted anyway.

"Oh, come on, Hermione. You can tell me," I purred in her ear.

I shivered, and this time she felt it. She turned to me, her face mere inches from my own, and I held my breath, praying to God that my lungs would someday forgive me for mistreating them this day.

"Chill?" she asked.

I pulled away from her, brushing at my shoulder nonchalantly.

"Not at all. I don't do skin contact well. I find it ," I said, hoping that my excuse wasn't too lame.

She giggled.

"I'm almost the same."

"Really? Too intimate? For a part-Veela French girl? Is that even possible?" Harry wondered, fingertip resting on his bottom lip, eyes cast upwards into the clouds, with a philosophical air about him, and quite possibly the stupidest facial expression I had ever cast eyes upon.

"I dunno, love. Why don't you poke her shoulder and find out?" Draco suggested.

So Harry reached forward, clasping my bare shoulder with his large, slightly rough, slightly callused hand. And I felt no tingle, no shiver, no chill. He tilted his head to the side, a puzzled look on his oblivious face. I sighed, wondering again what people saw in him and why he was so great. He really seemed to be rather clueless to me. I reminded myself that he had probably cracked under all the pressure of defeating Voldemort and et cetera, and had simply lost his already half-gone mind. Or maybe he was just acting stupid because Draco thought it was cute. Or maybe all the reasons.

"You try it, Draco," he said.

And Draco did. His hand was still larger than my own, but it was soft and smooth, much like a woman's. But still no tingle. No chill ripped up my spine.

"Why don't you try, Ron?" Hermione suggested.

Ron sputtered weakly, pointing to himself.

"M-m-me?" he squeaked, and it sounded as though he was going through puberty all over again.

I giggled at him. Such a cute crush he had on me, it was. Ron cringed, holding his hand as though it were scum. He forced a weak laugh.

"N-nah. No thanks. I don't think I want Fleur that way," he said weakly, looking over to Hermione, "Why don't you give it a shot, Herm?"

I giggled.

"You know, I'm sure people are probably staring and wondering what you all are doing, taking turns touching my shoulder," I said quietly.

Hermione shrugged, shooting a smile at Ron.

"I'll give it a try. It was probably just a passing breeze before, though," she said, reaching her hand out.

I swallowed, praying to God that I didn't shiver. God didn't hear me that time. Her soft skin made contact with my bare shoulder, and it seemed as though all the heat was sucked from the air and concentrated on the minute space where her hand and my shoulder met, and I just couldn't help myself. I shivered. I felt her fingers twitch slightly, and a small shiver went through her as well.

"Good Lord! That was like a mutual seizure!" Ron yelped, eyes owlishly wide, gaping at us both.

I laughed weakly.

"Did you feel that, Fleur?" Hermione asked, almost breathlessly.

"Feel what?"

"It was like a plume of heat, or." she blushed crimson, biting her

tongue and stopping herself, ".nevermind."

I grinned. So it wasn't just me, after all.

"Actually, truth be told, I felt it."

Draco squealed, hopping up and clapping his hands excitedly. Harry's eyes went wide, and he grabbed the seat of his boyfriend's pants, yanking him back down into his seat.

"Care to share, Draco dear?" he asked.

Draco was still clapping his hands together and giggling like some mad teenage girl.

"Tell me Fleur, have you a boyfriend, fiancee, or husband?" he asked, eyes wide and sparkly.

I found myself wondering why the hell his name was Draco and not Sparky or , and if he was all-human or a hybrid of human and an overly- excitable puppy or some other wide-eyed, perky, happy, fuzzy creature...like a chipmunk, beaver, hamster, or even maybe a ferret.

"No, actually. Why?"

"What's ?" he asked, eyes growing wider.

I feared that if he grew any more excited I would have to ask Harry to put goggles on the poor boy, seeing as how it looked as if his eyes would simply explode from their sockets at any second.

".'t ," I said hesitantly, finding an oddly fascinating crumb on the white linen tablecloth and staring at it intently.

I heard Hermione gag loudly, and Ron hiss, "Watch it, Herm!" I groaned. I also heard Draco giggling like some sort of lunatic chipmunk on crack withdrawals.

"Just in case you were wondering, Fleur, Hermione just fell out of her chair," Harry said calmly, for the first time not sounding bewildered.

I heard Ron laughing like a moron, looking at me, then Hermione, and back. He had a look on his face like one of his all-time ultimate fantasies had just come to life. Draco looked like a mother who had just watched her daughter get married to the perfect man, and he had the edge of a napkin between his lips, and the most frighteningly starry expression on his face. Harry was chuckling to himself. I looked over to Hermione, who was again sitting in her chair, casting shy glances at me, and I feared that she was going to die from blood loss, as all her blood was currently in or rushing into her face.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" I asked worriedly.

She laughed nervously, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

"Uh, yeah.I figured you to be the type to be a lesbian. I never thought all the rumors I've heard we're true," she said, voice cracking slightly.

I laughed softly, grinning impishly at her, winking briefly. I added a shrug and acquired a slightly airier manner, call it a defense mechanism if you will. I drank the lovely sight of her in with my eyes, knowing for sure that this was not the thin, underdeveloped little girl I last saw at Hogwarts. My eyes passed over her chest and I cleared my throat to rid myself of the sudden knot in it. She had most definitely filled out quite a bit.

"Often times, the media lies. But in some cases, there is truth," I said softly.

Hermione turned her head to the side, obviously avoiding my eyes. I reached towards the small plate of lemon slices, not really looking, and I felt a hand collide with mine, and I yanked my hand back, eyes flicking upwards into the shocked face of Draco.

"Whoa, girl! Tense much?" he giggled almost breathlessly.

I grabbed my lemon, squeezing it into my tea at the exact time he did, setting the remains on my saucer and pulling my hands into my lap.

"Sorry. I told you I didn't do touch well," I laughed quietly.

He laughed.

"You know, you two have some mannerisms in common," Harry said.

"We do?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

"Yeah. You cross your legs the same way, you raise your eyebrows the same way, you take your tea the same way, you laugh, chuckle, or giggle a lot, and you do it the same you look a lot a like. You're related to some Veelas aren't you, Draco?" Harry remarked.

Draco nodded thoughtfully and he said, "You know, it's odd, but I am. Maybe we're related, Fleur."

I chuckled, shaking my hair gently out of my face, realizing their attempt at striking up a conversation. I sighed to myself, hating to be rude, but also feeling somewhat hurt by Hermione's current state of shock and silence, I cleared my throat, looking at Draco in the eye. I fished for an excuse to get away from them, Ron's gawking beginning to irk me, Draco and Harry amazingly cute but a mere distraction, and Hermione more than impolitely quiet. A ghost of a frown flickered across my face. I wanted to get as far away from Hermione as I could at the moment.

"I hate to say this, , but I really ought to get going," I murmured quietly, avoiding looking at her.

" you leave?" Draco whined, making a pathetically miserable face at me.

I laughed quietly.

"Yes, I must. I'm sorry. Maybe we can meet for tea some other time, no?" I said, standing and pushing my chair in lightly.

I bent over, kissing each Ron, Harry, and Draco twice on each of their cheeks, and I strongly considered doing the same to Hermione. I felt my hand shake slightly as I rested it on her bare shoulder, she said nothing and kept her head turned away, staring at something else distantly.

"Au revoir, Mademoiselle Granger. I'm sorry," I muttered in her ear, clamping down on my will-power and denying myself the double-kiss I wanted, before quickly pecking her once on the cheek.

I stood quickly, forcing an almost tight smile at them, walking away slowly, eager to leave the heat of her behind. I was maybe ten feet away when behind me, I heard Draco squawk indignantly.

"Hermione! She LIKES you! She LIKES you and you just clammed right up! I'll bet a sack of Galleons you hurt her feelings! I can not believe how insensitive you are!" he yelped.

I saw Hermione's head turn to look at Draco in a reflection in a glass, and I heard her speak softly.

"Draco, you know I just got out of a relationship," she said quietly.

"I also know that that stare you were giving her was an 'I want to shag you till the sun comes up' stare and not an 'I don't want you at all because I just got out of a relationship, so leave me alone' stare. And I also know that that she seemed almost eager to leave after you clammed up, and that she looked hurt and forced when she said her good-byes," he babbled.

I groaned, flipping my hair over my shoulder. I had walking slowly for nearly one minute, and they were finally out of earshot. I was glad that they were, because I didn't want to hear anymore of what they, or rather Draco, had to say.

"Am I really that obvious?" I muttered, casting my eyes up at the heavens.

"Yes, actually, you kind of are," I heard a soft voice say.

I tensed, spinning around, eyes darting around and coming to rest , looking flushed as though she was embarrassed and had just run a short distance in high heels. I smiled at her, knowing that it didn't quite reach my eyes.

"I-" she began, but stopped, looking thoughtful for a second, then sighing, giving up.

She instead grabbed me by the hand, yanking me down two inches to eye level with her, and leaned up, kissing me full on the mouth. My eyes went wide and I tensed more, until I felt her palm on my face. She pulled away, blushing a deeper crimson, if at all possible. I stared at her, completely flabbergasted and at a total loss for words. She shoved a small piece of crumpled paper in my hand, and I quickly unfolded it, reading it. To my surprise, it was her hotel address, room number, and cell phone number. She leaned up, kissing me again, this time letting her lips linger for perhaps a second longer.

"Pick me up at 7?" she asked timidly.

I swallowed a lump in my throat, forcing my blush to fade, and she looked worried.

"That is unless you're busy or something." she added, just as quietly.

I forced words to my mouth.

"Of course not," I said quickly, hoping I didn't sound desperate, "I'll be there."

She smiled brightly at me.

"Great! I'll see you later, then. We'll have dinner and talk. I'll pick the place," she said.

I nodded, grinning.

"Oh, and about that. up and all. And the sudden kisses." she giggled nervously.

"It''s all right," I said.

She turned, walking away, humming a song to herself that sounded oddly familiar. I started on my way again, picking up my silver BMW Z3 from the parking garage and sitting in it. I reached a hand up to touch my lips when I was safely inside, still not believing that only minutes ago, the girl I'd been wanting for four years just kissed me. I giggled, reminding myself to thank Draco for yelling at Hermione.

I feel your fever

From miles around

I'll pick you up in my car

And we'll paint the town

Just kiss me baby

And tell me twice

That you're the one for me

I drove home, listening to a CD that my little sister Gabrielle had burned for me, the song was called "The Way You Make Me Feel" by a muggle man who could hit outrageously high notes and make ridiculous noises while singing. Gabrielle claimed he had a major identity crisis and was named Michael Jackson. Surprisingly enough, I found myself loving the song, and his impassioned voice. I lived in the muggle world, unlike my family, who lived a short distance from me, but in the wizarding world. However, I had a job in the wizarding world as an Auror, and a job in both the wizarding and muggle world as a designer and model. I had bought a computer which Gabrielle had taken an instant liking and aptitude to, as well as the internet, downloading, and CD burner. The song sounded familiar, like I'd heard it just earlier. I racked my brain for an answer, but after a short while, I gave up, realizing that it probably wasn't all that important anyway.

I arrived at my house, waiting for the guard to open the gate, and driving up the long driveway, leaving my car for another guard to park. I rang the doorbell, and a maid opened the door, greeting me cheerfully, and I returned the greeting, walking in with a smile. I walked upstairs, feeling that I needed to walk off my anxiety instead of standing still in the elevator. I unlocked the double French doors to my room, walking past my massive bed. I walked into the bathroom, undressing as I walked, throwing the clothes onto the floor, too lazy to stop and put them in the laundry basket. I showered, the thoughts of Hermione consuming my mind and I smiled, leaning against the tile wall, letting the hot water travel down my body in thick rivulets to land on the cold floor with a soft hiss, steam issuing upward.

"This should prove to be an interesting date," I said to myself.

I began to softly hum the song from the car to myself, closing my eyes and lathering shampoo in my hair. I stopped for a second and laughed. My smile grew only wider when I realized that the song I had been listening to in the car and was humming at this moment was the same song that Hermione had been humming.


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Why are you still looking up here? Haven't you caught on yet? I still own nothing. -_-

Chapter 2

Hermione's P.O.V

I turned the water off, walking out of the bathroom, wrapping myself in my robe as I went. I stood over by my large window, pulling aside the curtains and looking over Paris. Paris was beautiful at night, the lights from the buildings and restaurants and Eiffel Tower stood out in the darkness like small stars. I sighed, wringing excess water out of my hair, realizing that I only had forty-five minutes left to get ready. I made a small 'eep' noise, damning myself because I forgot to tell Fleur that I had intended on us going to a semi-formal restaurant. But then I relaxed, realizing that the girl was not only a French veela, but a model and a designer as well; she usually wore semi-formal anyway. Well, at least she had been in all the pictures I had seen of her in the magazines and newspapers, both muggle and wizard. That and because I told her we were going to dinner was usually at least semi-formal.

She was an insanely rich designer and model in the muggle world, and an insanely rich designer, model, and Auror in the wizarding world. I sighed. Some things just weren't fair at all. I actually had some clothing from her line, French Kiss, and I wondered if I should wear that little dress I loved so much. Then a disturbing thought popped into my head. What if a past girlfriend of hers had worn a French Kiss outfit on their first date in hopes of impressing Fleur? I clenched my hands in anxiety, strongly considering biting my French manicured nails, but then I shook my head. I had given up that habit years ago. I would not start again. Besides, it would have been a waste of money. I instead slipped my robe on, hurrying out of my room and knocking hard on the door across the hall from me: Harry and Draco's room. I heard a groan, rustling noises, and a disheveled Harry answered the door.

"Something wrong, Herm?" he asked, yawning widely behind his hand.

"Who is it, Harry?" I heard Draco call from inside the room.

I pushed past Harry, finding Draco sitting in front of the telly with an enormous bag of kettle corn.

"You. My room. NOW!" I twittered, grabbing his wrist and dragging him out.

Harry stood at the door, looking as confused as ever, and asking, "Is this some sort of sexual rendezvous type thing that I should know about?"

We both rolled our eyes, ignoring clueless Harry, as we always do. The boy was simply hit by a few too many curses and hexes as a child. I pushed Draco into my room.

"What do I wear?" I asked him, looking at him with pleading eyes.

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"If you can't decide, just go nude, I'm sure she'll appreciate that," he giggled.

I hit him over the head with this morning's Daily Prophet, which had conveniently rolled itself up for my use.

"Draco! Have you no shame?!"

He chuckled, rubbing his head sorely.

"Well, I'd've done it. All right, all right. Just relax and let me at your closet."

He opened my closet door, gawping at all my clothes, eyes growing wide and watery.

"French Kiss? My GOD! Almost your entire wardrobe is French Kiss!" he yelped.

"She's clothes are was I supposed to do? Not buy them? Call it an obsession if you will, but I need to know what to wear."

He sniffled, hugging a black skirt and top set gently.

"I wish I had the body to pull these clothes off."

"Draco, she designs men's clothes too. And it's not like you're fat. They're expensive, but it's not like you're poor or anything."

"It's not THAT! I want boobies!"

"That'.Can we get back to the matter at hand, please?"

"Fine, fine. Ooh!" he squealed delightedly, pulling out the little dress I loved.

It was a soft shade of midnight black, spaghetti strapped, and with excess fabric in the chest area so that it fell down in graceful folds, exposing cleavage, but not enough to make the wearer seem sleazy. It was back-less with thin criss-crossed straps connecting one side with the other.

"But what if her past girlfriends wore French Kiss on their first date too? Wouldn't that just seem.I ?"

He sighed, tossing the dress at me.

"Just put it on. It's beautiful, you're beautiful, she's beautiful. It's a good match."

So I did, and I moved this way and that in front of the mirror, frowning at myself.

"Does this dress make me look fat?"

"Of course not!"

"Does it make my arse look big?"

"Not at all. You have a nice arse, anyway. She'll like it."

"Does it make my boobs look small?"

"Darling, C is not small."

"Draco, I'm going out with a French model! And she's part veela! That last thing I want is to look fat, big-arsed, and flat! Now be honest!"

Draco sighed, giggling again, grabbing me by the shoulders and steering me away from the mirror.

"You look fabulous, Hermy. Don't sweat it so much."

I pulled my hair into a clip, half of it up, the rest down. I slipped my legs and feet into matching high-heeled pumps with straps snaking up my legs to just beneath my knee. I stood, twirling around for Draco as he laughed and clapped his hands excitedly.

"You look great!" he squeaked happily, hopping up and down with delight.

I heard a soft knock on the door and a voice call, "Hello?" and I froze. I panicked, tempted to hide. I pushed Draco towards the door, hissing at him to answer it. He pulled the door open, exposing Fleur who was standing there calmly, whilst I panicked. Oh my looked beautiful and warm and sweet and like she was everything I've ever wanted and needed all rolled into one perfect blonde. She was wearing tight black pants, a dark blue collared blouse with the edges of the sleeve cuffs just poking out from beneath a form-fitting black blazer, and black shoes. The blue blouse was obviously silk, and unbuttoned to the button just above her cleavage, the lapels not pushed aside but a vast expanse of smooth, cream white skin still showing tantalizingly between the fabric. A black choker encircled her throat, and her platinum blonde hair was pulled up into a relaxed but neat ponytail, a few strands falling into her bright blue eyes. I felt my face flush as I realized that she noticed I was staring at her.

"Good evening, Mademoiselle Granger," she purred in that sexy voice with that soft purr of an accent, and I swear I felt myself beginning to melt.

"Hi, Fleur." I choked out in a pathetic whisper.

I slapped myself inwardly. If she hadn't thought I was a complete loser before, I was sure she did now. She was that I fought off a gag. I was going to choke on her perfection, on her Aphroditic beauty. It was almost disgusting how beautiful she neat, clean, and almost untouched she looked, but at the same time how she looked like she had rolled out of bed after a post-shower nap and just thrown something on. She smiled charmingly at me, and I melted more at the sight of her perfect teeth. Teeth have always been a pet peeve of mine, and I'd never seen another more beautiful pair of teeth than hers. Her lips weren't chapped at all, and I had felt that earlier when I kissed her. I only meant to kiss her once, but I had to do it again. I found myself staring at her throat, at the black choker that was wrapped around it, and I became stupidly jealous of the choker because I wanted to be as close to her as it was. I shook my head slightly, clearing my head of the ridiculous notion.

"You look wonderful," she said, and I felt the heat of her eyes on me.

I blushed, it was very visible and I knew.

"Thank you. You look , what I mean to say is, you look fabulous yourself," I replied, kicking myself mentally for nearly saying 'delicious'.

"Ready to go?" she asked, raising her left eyebrow just a tic, and I blushed again, damning her Veela blood to the depths of hell because it just wasn't right for someone to be so damned sexy.

"Erm, yes. Draco, lock up for me, will you?" I said, turning and looking to Draco, who was giggling insanely behind his hands.

"Sure thing. You two have fun and behave yourselves! Don't get into any trouble!" he sniggered.

I saw the twinkle Fleur's eyes and she laughed.

"I can't guarantee good behaviour, or not getting into trouble," she began, "maybe I should've warned you before, Hermione?"

"Hey, I'm not complaining," I laughed, gritting my teeth and trying to refrain myself from throwing her on the bed and having my wicked, wicked way with her.

Damn Veelas! I inhaled deeply, telling myself not to succumb to my carnal urges and give in completely to her charms. After all, it was just Fleur. I'd always thought she was pretty, but I was shoved deep in the closet back then. I was just being more open, that's all. Despite the fact that I had written her name a million times on spare parchment, I was NOT obsessed. Say what you will, but I was not obsessed. I was jealous of her beauty, jealous of the boys she dated, jealous of her intelligence, jealous of everything. But jealous mainly of Roger Davies who went to the Yule Ball with her. I reminded myself not to start hyperventilating or anything else stupid.

"Well, I promise to take good care of her, how's that, Draco? I can't promise that I'll have her back before tonight, though," she said.

My eyes went wide and I suppressed a cough of embarrassment. I felt like she was reading my mind. I frantically tried to clear my head after the possibility of her being a telepath entered my mind.

"Sounds good to me. All right, then. Off you go!" he chuckled, making shooing motions with his hands at us.

Fleur smiled and I choked. We walked slowly down the hallway in, I guess, a comfortable silence. We walked into the elevator and I pressed the lobby button, waiting patiently. A floor before we hit the lobby, Fleur placed her hand on the small of my back and murmured into my ear, "There are going to be reporters once we get out of this elevator, so don't panic. Just smile and keep walking, and whatever you do, don't stop and talk to them, all right?"

My eyes went wide.

".How did they know about it so fast?" I gaped.

She laughed gently, saying, "I barely ever get any privacy. They probably saw earlier and overheard us at the café. That and they just always tail me no matter where I go."

I sighed, smiling sympathetically at her.

"You poor thing," I giggled.

"It gets to be a bit much sometimes. Oh, here we are," she said, as a small bell dinged and the doors began to open, "Are you ready?"

I nodded my head and reached for her hand at the same time she reached for mine. The doors fully opened and I was nearly blown back into the elevator by the sheer brightness and force of the billions of flashing lights. There was a loud buzz of fast talking, and reporters and people seemed to fill every crack and crevasse in the huge lobby.

"Oh my God!" I yelped, shutting my eyes, "How do you deal with this?"

She chuckled.

"Lots of practice."

She held my hand tightly, smiling charmingly at the cameras, ignoring the questions being yelled at her, most of them pertaining to my identity and what the relationship between us was. I nearly fell backwards when one woman shoved a tape recorder in my face and demanded my name. A tall man in black seemingly appeared from nowhere and gently pulled her away. Microphones were shoved in my face, cameramen mulled everywhere, and camera flashbulbs exploded with light with every picture they took. I suddenly got the feeling that this was going to be on the news later.

"What are you, some sort of French national heroine?" I laughed over the noise, grasping Fleur's hand.

She laughed again, continuing to gently lead me forward to the door. Luckily, there had been some velvet ropes put in place to keep the crowd in check, but that didn't stop all of them. One bold man took a running leap over the ropes and all but prostrated himself at her feet, begging her to marry him. This earned an almost disdainful laugh from Fleur, who flipped her hair over her shoulder and said with a charming smile, "You can't afford me." He only drooled more. He too, was dragged away by who I had by now deduced were Fleur's bodyguards. Two more bodyguards guided us out the door and into a limo.

"This is where we get some of them off our backs," she said, settling into the seat.

I laughed.

"Good Lord, Fleur.I've never had an experience like that," I said breathlessly, brushing my hair away from my face.

She leaned in closer to me, cupping my face gently with one hand.

"Do you still want to do this then?" she asked softly.

"Of course I do," I replied smiling at her.

I knew then that the conceit was just an act for her, and she, in truth, was a very sweet woman. But there were times still when I knew her French and Veela blood could get the best of her relatively sweet demeanor and make her seem snooty and bitchy, but deliciously so. Don't ask, I don't understand my way of thinking either.

"Good, because there's no turning back now," she laughed, pulling away.

And I shivered, because I was hoping that she wouldn't pull away. I was kind of hoping she'd kiss me. The heat of her hand lingered on my face, and I found myself staring at the beautiful contours of her hands. From the strong, yet delicate structure to her long, graceful fingers, her perfectly manicured nails, the soft skin, and the artistic ability and strength underlying the soft beauty. And I wondered just how strong those beautiful hands were. I again began to berate myself mentally for thinking such things about her before I even knew her birthday.

"Miss Delacour, we're at the light. Please get ready," the driver said over a speaker.

"Thank you, Valjean," she replied, holding my hand again.

"What now?" I asked.

"Look out the window. There is a silver BMW convertible to our left, a black car behind it, a white car in front of it, and a beige car to the BMW's left. When the light goes red, we will all stop, you and I will get out of the limo and into the BMW, and the body doubles in the BMW will get out and get in the limo."

"Body doubles?" I squeaked.

"Red light!" Valjean called.

Fleur opened the door and we moved quickly out and into the BMW, quickly passing the body doubles, who went into the limo after grinning at us. Fleur slipped into the driver's seat, pulling her seatbelt on. The white car in front of us went straight, we turned left, the black car behind us stayed with us, and the limo and everyone else went straight as well. I let out the breath I had been holding.

"Do you do this often?" I asked with a laugh.

"Somewhat," she replied.

"Do you know where Antoinette's is?" I asked because I knew she was wondering where I had planned to go.

"Yes," she began, "I love it there. Do you go there often?"

I laughed softly.

"Not often enough. I went once with my parents when I was younger, and all I remember is the great food and the name. I have no clue where it is," I replied.

She chuckled, reaching forward and turning on the stereo. "Bittersweet Symphony" by The Verve played softly over the speakers.

"I hope you don't mind. Music helps to calm me," she said, never removing her eyes from the road.

I raised my eyebrows in the dark.

"You're nervous?" I asked unbelievingly.

"A bit. How about you?"

"I'm surprised I haven't gone into cardiac arrest yet."

With that, she laughed. It wasn't one of her soft chuckles, but a heartfelt laugh. It wasn't loud, it was like a tinkling of bells really.

"I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come by my house later and see it?" she said slowly.

I noticed her hands gripping the steering wheel more tightly.

"That is unless you feel uncomfortable or you have other things to do," she added hastily.

My ego swelled like a balloon. The most beautiful woman in the world had just asked me to her house after dinner. There had been polls for the most beautiful female celebrity in countless magazines, European, Asian, and American alike, and Fleur had come out on top in each one.

"I'd love to," I said.

She smiled, and we drove on in a comfortable silence. I looked up at the stars with a smile and I knew that it would be an interesting night I wouldn't soon forget.

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	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: ::sigh:: Still. I own nothing. You should have caught on by now.

A/N Opening Note: PEOPLE! O_O!! PEOPLE HAVE REVIEWED MY FIC!!! ::sniffle:: I love you, reviewers.

A-chan Wants to Thank: Jesi-chan: would I do without you?! Jesi-chan my beloved and only FAITHFUL ::sigh:: beta-reader.I LOVE YOOOU, JESI-CHAN!!! Thank you for helping me and telling me what sucks and what doesn't and for all your inspiration and of course for that review. ^^;;

I also want to thank Fledge for THREE reviews.I love you too. ^^ Btw.I have read "No Defense For You" by Dreiser. ::sniffle:: That's such a great fic. I think she said she wasn't going to finish it though. Just leave it as is. Which is depressing. Because I really like it. And I wanted to read the rest of it. . I have bunches more of great FxH fics on my favorites

And last but not least, mgm87 for the kind review. ^^ =+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Chapter 3

Fleur's P.O.V.

I drove along, knowing that Antoinette's was just a little while away. Possibly five more minutes until we got there at the speed at which I was going. I pulled into a parking lot and set the brake, then leaning over to Hermione, I reached for the glove compartment to get my cell phone, placing one hand on the leather seat beside her thigh. I reached over more, yelping when my hand slipped and I landed against Hermione, our chests pressed flush against one another's, my lips centimeters from hers. Her eyes were wide, and I heard a definite hitch in her breathing. A soft pink flush was creeping up her chest, to her neck, to her face to lightly tinge her cheeks. I flushed, forced a cough, grabbed my cell phone, muttered an apology, and turned away to hide my blush. I flipped it open, searching my directory and hitting 'Dial' once I saw 'Antoinette's'.

"Antoinette's, may I help you?" asked a heavily accented voice.

"Gerard, this is Fleur. I'll be there in about fifteen minutes. I'll take my usual table. Have a bottle of." I paused, looking over to Hermione for a second, "white or red wine?"

Her lips formed the word 'white' without saying a thing, and even in the darkness I could still see that she was a bit flustered. I nodded.

"White wine," I said, "have a bottle ready for me. You know my favorite year. I'm bringing someone along."

"New girlfriend?" he chuckled.

I laughed with him, grateful that Hermione could not hear.

"Hopefully. know the deal. Verandah, et cetera."

"Oui, Mademoiselle Delacour. It will all be set for you by the time you arrive."

"Thank you, Gerard."

"My pleasure, Mademoiselle Delacour."

I hung up, setting my phone in the cup holder beside me. I saw Hermione gaping at me from the corner of my eye. I looked over to her, raising my left eyebrow in question.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Antoinette's is one of the hardest restaurants to get you just call in like that and they're all set for you?" she wondered.

I smiled.

"I have a designated table. It should take them a little while to set 's only a five minute drive from here, and it'll take them maybe twenty to get set up, so we can kick back here for a few minutes. Would you mind?" I murmured, looking over at her.

"No, not at all," she said softly.

I searched for the button that would make the top of the car pull back, exposing us fully to the stars and the night sky. I pressed it, giggling quietly at her jerk of surprise. I pulled back on the lever at the side of my seat, reclining myself a bit to look at the sky.

"The stars are beautiful tonight. They're usually not this bright," I said to no one in particular.

I heard Hermione unsnap her seatbelt, heard her move. I sighed lightly, closing my eyes and breathing deep, trying to calm myself. I had requested that Gerard prepare my verandah table for me, overlooking Paris from the high tower at which Antoinette's was positioned, with candle lighting. Maybe it was too much. Maybe to Hermione, this was just a pity date Draco had convinced her to go on. I felt my eyes open slowly of their own accord when I detected a sudden weight shift in the car. I closed them again, breathing deeply once more, smelling light lavender vanilla perfume. I yelped with shock when I felt a warm weight straddle my hips, and I jerked upright. I opened my eyes, looking at Hermione. She had a playful look on her face. I raised my eyebrow at her again, swallowing the pulsing lump in my throat that felt like my palpitating heart. I saw her leg move to the side and the back of my seat rose. She placed her hands against my shoulders, pinning me to it. I laughed nervously, knowing that my face was redder than the setting sun.

"W-what are you doing, Hermione?" I asked, my voice shaking.

She giggled, leaning forward and pressing her cheek against my neck. I suppressed a groan, heat stirring deep in my body.

"Say my name," she whispered.

"What?"

"Say my name again."

"Hermione."

She let out a contended sigh, nuzzling my neck, sending jolts of electricity through me. This woman was evil, pure evil. And she knew it, I was sure.

"You roll your 'r's a bit when you say it. It's almost like a purr," she stated quietly, placing a soft, wet kiss on my neck.

She was evil. And forward. This time, I did moan a little. She giggled demonically, running her fingernails over the back of my neck, eliciting a shiver.

"Well, you're not shy," I huffed, feeling a tad ashamed of myself.

"You'll never have to worry about that," she murmured in my ear, letting her lips touch it.

".You're tense. Do you want me to stop?" she asked.

I shook my head fiercely. Did I want her to stop? Of course not. I'd only been fantasizing about this since I was seventeen. I cleared my throat, regaining my cool. I put my hands on her thighs, sliding them upward slowly until I was holding her hips. I leaned forward, pressing a kiss against the small gap between her collarbones, feeling her nails scratching lightly at the back of my blazer.

"I just thought that you'd like to know; I'm not shy either," I said, grinning at her.

Her face was pink.

"No joke."

"Would you like to see who between the two of us is more shameless?"

"Mmm.I'd love to, but ten minutes isn't long enough."

"We'll have all night after dinner."

"Is that an invitation?"

"If you want it to be."

"A night with the fabulous Fleur promising."

"Does it now."

"I've heard you're quite the lover."

I sputtered, losing my cool again. Usually I never lost my cool. Ever. This ? In less than three minutes? I grinned. I liked her already.

"That might just be a rumor," I said calmly.

"True, but you said yourself just earlier that despite the fact that the media lies, sometimes there's truth behind it."

"You've got me there."

She giggled.

"Am I being too aggressive?" she asked suddenly.

"I personally don't think you are. Why?"

" said that he knows I'm really aggressive in truth, but that I act too placidly around my girlfriends. So he told me on the ride home to try to be more aggressive with you."

"A gay man that gives lesbians .it's good advice, though. I actually like the feisty ones," I said with a chuckle.

"You're not just saying that?"

"Of course not. I have no reason to lie to you."

"It was hard earlier," she began.

I looked her in the eye.

"What was?"

"Restraining myself. I wanted to throw you on the bed," she admitted with a nervous laugh, "It's just that you looked when I saw you that a million dirty thoughts erupted into my head."

"Smart, beautiful, aggressive, and did you manage to hide from me for so long?" I chuckled, wrapping my arms loosely around her waist.

She giggled, leaning in and kissing me on the cheek. She pulled away after the peck, but I turned my head to the side, capturing her mouth with mine. She lurched forward from shock, throwing her arms loosely around my neck almost reflexively. And then there was nothing more for me to do, save for surrender to the kiss. All I could do then was give in to the sweet warmth of her lips, surrender to the darkness of her mouth, allow her to pull me into a deep abyss of teeth, lips, and tongue. I wrapped my arms still tighter around her waist, crushing her against me. I delighted in the plumes of heat that shot upward through my body from my toes to my head. I reveled in the sensory overload that she was giving me; in the bolts of lightning that appeared wherever she touched me, in the molten heat stirring in my belly. A swift pang of raw, unbridled, animalistic lust shot through me and I suddenly found my clothing far too hot and restrictive. I wanted to tear her dress off with my teeth and bare her to the night sky where she could flaunt her naked beauty to the moon and stars. I reminded myself to have an extra glass of Disaronno later, deciding that being sober and utterly aroused really was bad for my health, and to get laid before I turned into a walking book of poetry and soliloquies. I also reminded myself not to get too carried away with alcohol, as to be whisked away in a bacchanalian revel. I curled my fingers into her hair, shivering only slightly when I felt her tugging at the buttons of my shirt. She undid a few, spreading my shirt apart and pressing her palms against my skin, breaking away with a gasp for air and pressing small kisses against my chest. I jumped when my cell phone began to ring. I growled, grabbing it, wondering if whoever was calling valued their life at all. I looked at the caller ID, seeing that it was one of the bodyguards. I rolled my eyes.

"Sorry, Hermione, I have to take this," I said.

She grinned wickedly, darting her tongue out to lick my neck.

"I don't mind," she giggled, never stopping her kisses.

The ringing continued. I growled, flipping the phone open almost violently, surprised that the mouthpiece didn't fly off into the atmosphere.

"Hello?" I said almost irritably.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, as much as we hate to interrupt, we must remind you that it has been ten minutes. And that there are photographers on their way to this area," one of my bodyguards said over the phone.

I sighed reluctantly.

"Yes.I very nearly forgot. Thank you."

I hung up with a heavy sigh, cupping Hermione's face in my hands and pulling her away from my neck.

"Hey.I wasn't done with that." she protested, eyes hazy with lust.

I kissed her briefly on the nose.

"Later," I told her, "Right now, we have to go. It'd be rude to keep the restaurant staff waiting. And photographers are coming."

She pouted, but slid off of my lap and back into her seat. The formal atmosphere had dissolved completely, but at the same time, the tension, namely the sexual tension, had sky rocketed. I buttoned my shirt, starting up the car and driving on to Antoinette's. I left the top down, not minding the wind. Hermione said nothing for the brief ride, just leaned against her door, staring out at the night. It was silent now, save for the music and the wind. And for once, the silence didn't bother me as it had before.


	5. Chapter 4

Author's Note: SORRY!!!! I'm so sorry for the long delay. The only reason why it seems like it took so long was because I had already written the prologue, first chapter, second chapter, and third chapter and I just posted them all at once. But, anyway. Sorry again. I've been busy. I've been singing myself hoarse practicing for Freshman Honors choir auditions...I didn't make the SATB (soprano, alto, tenor, bass) choir, but I DID make the All Women's Treble Group! ^^ Yaaaay! ...Like anyone cares...xB Anyhoo...I'd like to thank my reviewers, recent and past for your kind words: mgm87, fledge, ma- dreader, nagi the huntress, LiquidV, louie, melissa, Ran Anxiang. ren2boo, and last, but most definitely NOT least: MY WONDERFUL AND LOYAL AND FANTASTICALLY FANTABULOUS BETA-READER: Jesi-chan! ^^;;

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Chapter 4

Hermione's P.O.V

The silence wasn't uncomfortable. Nor was it awkward. It didn't seem that way for her at least. I, on the other hand, felt like a nervous wreck. I curled a lock of hair around my pointer finger, feeling suddenly juvenile and reclusive. I wanted a book. A large, dusty, musty, ancient old tome that I could hide my red face behind, immersing myself in the words. Become the Hermione I usually was. Unfortunately, there were no dusty old books in Fleur's sleek convertible, so I was left with the option of playing with my hair and staring out at the night passing us by, at the people walking around on the streets, at the polite little cafes and Parisian stores. Fleur pulled the car over into a parking space beside a little store. She unbuckled her seatbelt and without a word she exited, stood, and closed her door, all in one fluid motion. I too undid my seatbelt and was about to reach for the door handle, but she reached it first, pulling the door open for me. She locked the car and looked to me, her deep arctic silver-blue eyes twinkling like azure stars. It struck me suddenly as odd that I was falling for her...no-plummeting; she was almost a complete stranger. We'd never spoken before today. And yet I felt as though I were whole with her there.

"I hope you don't mind, but I thought that perhaps we could walk a few blocks to the restaurant...enjoy the scenery a bit, no?" she said, raising her left eyebrow just a tic and smiling charmingly.

I felt a butterfly flutter in my stomach.

"Not at all," I murmured, beginning to walk alongside her.

Fleur's long, smooth strides carried her to a small flower cart. She turned quickly, winking at me and said, "Wait here." She returned shortly thereafter, hands behind her back.

"Close your eyes," she said softly; I could hear the soft laugh underlying her request and I complied.

I felt the air in front of me nearly ripple as she reached forward, and I felt her tuck something, presumably a flower of some sort, behind my ear. I opened my eyes, seeing, not Fleur, but my reflection from a mirror she held. There indeed was a flower tucked behind my ear. I couldn't quite identify what sort it was, but it was lovely nonetheless, with its broad petals and it bold scarlet-pink colour. I opened my mouth to ask, but the mirror moved away and Fleur's face appeared again. She grinned at me, answering my unasked question.

"Stargazer lily. I would've gotten you roses, but you seem to be well- educated in the subject of dating. I figured roses were too cliche and overused. So...a Stargazer it was," she explained.

I blushed, smiling up at her. I reached up, cupping the back of her neck with my hand and pulling her down to my level, and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

"It's lovely. Thank you. I've never gotten one before," I replied, dropping my hand to let her move away.

Instead of moving away, however, she leaned in for another kiss then pulled away. She captured my hand, grinning mischievously, and continued walking.

"So, you've never gotten a Stargazer before, hm? Shame. They're lovely flowers. Who would be silly enough to give such a lovely woman like yourself plain, simple flowers?" she asked casually.

I laughed softly.

"Alicia Spinnet, if that's what you're hinting at. She was my most recent girlfriend."

"Mm...how long were you together?"

"I think it was maybe two years. We were pretty close, I suppose. We just broke up recently."

It seemed as though a cloud had gathered over Fleur's head, blocking out the rays of her halo.

"Oh," she said, and it seemed as though that simple, single word was a condemnation of some sort.

"...How about you?" I asked, knowing that my voice croaked slightly.

"My most recent was one of my models. Jenna. Lovely girl. It didn't work out well, though," she murmured softly and I felt her fingers twitch and I wondered if she wanted to let go of my hand.

I frowned slightly, wondering if maybe she was rebounding...or if I was just asking if she was because I was rebounding.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry? What on earth for?"

"I...I shouldn't have asked. It was not my place. I'm sorry."

I smiled softly, squeezing her hand tightly and intertwining my fingers with hers.

"Let's not dwell on unpleasant things, hm?"

The problem is, this is just the beginning We're already wet, and we're gonna go swimming

We arrived at the restaurant very briefly, ushered in eagerly by a man with a curled mustache who introduced himself as Gerard. We were led to a verandah on which there was a round table covered by a Prussian blue linen cloth. Beside the table were two antique-looking, six-foot candle holders, each holding a burning ivory coloured candle. The verandah itself was on the third floor of the restaurant, and the view was of the Eiffel Tower. Fleur led me to the table, pulling out my chair and letting me sit.

"So, does anyone else use this area or is it just yours?" I asked, tossing my hair over my shoulder and out of my way.

"It's mine, but I share it occasionally if someone asks," she replied, leaning forward on the table and resting her weight on her elbows.

I noticed that she did that often, making it seem like she paid rapt attention to her company, and her eye contact never once wavered. At my fourth year in Hogwarts, she seemed like such a snobby, uptight girl- the very epitome of the wealthy French girl. However, this Fleur seemed very different: relaxed and kind. And yet, the melancholy I sensed about her those years ago still remained. Our eyes locked, and a shiver went down my spine. Those eyes were so cold and yet so hot. Her iris was ringed by a solid circle of the darkest blue I'd ever seen, almost black, like outer space; that dark blue changed, almost violently, into a nearly white-silver ice blue. I tore my eyes away for fear of drowning and I cleared my throat.

"So, Fleur...what's your favourite season?" I began lamely.

She raised an eyebrow and laughed softly.

"An unexpected question coming from you."

"Well..." I felt stupid, sitting there in a restaurant with a French beauty and asking her her favourite season.

I wanted to dig myself a hole and crawl in it and die.

"Autumn," she answered before I could hide my face under the tablecloth.

"Autumn? You seemed more like a winter girl."

"And why is that?"

"I don't know. You just have this...sad air about you. I figured that you'd love winter, because..." I hesitated, choosing my words carefully, not wanting to make myself seem foolish again (I am the great and all- knowing Hermione Granger, after all), "because it's so dark and quiet."

She laughed softly again.

"Yes. I've been told that before. And while it is easy to see why people would think winter was the most depressing or morbid time of year, I prefer autumn. Probably because it looks as if the entire landscape has been devoured by fire. The reds, yellows, and oranges...I've always thought fire to be a beautiful thing. It's the earth and trees struggling to fight off the inevitable death that winter brings. There's something about the decay of the world that I find enrapturing," she explained.

My eyebrows raised to high heavens.

"My, my. What a way with words you've got," I chuckled.

Her pink lips curled up into a small smile.

"Ah, yes. I'm the tortured, brooding poet/model...I'm surprised you haven't caught on by now," she said, bringing the back of her hand up to rest on her brow with a dramatic sigh.

I giggled.

"Would it be safe to assume that red is your favourite colour?" I asked.

"Safe but incorrect. It's actually purple."

"Ah. So I'm wrong again. Damn, I'm losing my edge."

"As a child, I could never decide if my favourite colour was blue or red. So in the end, I decided that it would be purple, since it's both red and blue."

"Clever."

"Isn't it just."

I smiled at her, crossing my legs slowly under the table. I felt a prickle of heat spread through my chest and my lower belly when my leg brushed hers.

"Oh, playing footsie now, are we?" she whispered loudly, waggling her eyebrows cheekily.

"Mm...you know it. I just can't keep to myself."

We both laughed then.

The waiter arrived and we both ordered our meals, myself ordering a salad and Fleur ordering chicken Cordon Bleu. We ate dinner amid polite conversation, and all the while hoardes of bees were buzzing insanely in my stomach. Again and again, I reached for my wine glass and found it filled to the rim each time. With each drink I took, I felt heat spread through my body like wildfire, felt liquid fire burn like acid then settle to pool heavily in the nether regions of my belly. By the time we left, I already felt groggy, and heavy and warm. The edges of my vision were blurred and fuzzy.

"Blasted already, Hermione? The night's barely begun," Fleur chuckled, helping me into the car after I tripped trying to get in myself.

I laughed, feeling heat rise in my chest and in my face; I waved my hand coquettishly at her, smiling impishly.

"So just how long will the night last, exactly?" I giggled, raising my eyebrows at her, "Until the morning, perhaps? I'd certainly fancy having a go at that."

She laughed.

"You're very naughty when you're drunk," she said bluntly amidst her giggles.

"Just get me in some leather hotpants and give me a whip. I'll show you naughty," I slurred, ignoring the voice of reason in the back of my head yelling at me to shut my trap.

She drove, saying close to nothing and listening to me chatter away. After a few minutes, I had somehow composed myself enough to ask her where we were going. To which she calmly replied, "My house. You said earlier that you wanted to see it...unless of course you've changed your mind?"

I shook my head, grabbing my own hair and pulling it away from my neck and shoulders to alleviate some of the heat I felt.

"Of course not. Why would I change my mind?" I murmured.

The house, or rather the mansion, she lived in was huge. It was enormous and beautiful and clean and white.

"Good Lord, you live here alone?" I asked, the numb feeling in my head ebbing away slightly.

She smiled softly, and I caught the sadness of it.

"So far, yes."

She led me inside, and the castle-like interior of the house was dark and nearly silent. She took my hand, leading me to two golden doors that split open a few seconds after she pressed a button. It took a while for it to dawn on me that it was an elevator. She walked in and I trailed after her, leaning against the wall and closing my eyes slightly.

"You should just rest for now, Hermione. You're tipsy and surely tired," she said quietly.

I nodded, and regretted it the moment I did, as the motion sent sparks of fizzy bubbles going off in the bridge of my nose and my skull.

"Good idea..."

"I can show you to a guest room, if you like."

I could taste the hesitation in that statement. My lips curled into a Cheshire cat grin.

"Or you can show me to your room, if you like," I shot back at her, turning to gaze steadily at her through half-lidded eyes.

She raised her left eyebrow again.

"There is that option, yes."

The elevator bell 'ding'ed and we alighted from it. Fleur continued to lead me down a hallway. We passed a loft or lounge type area, and continued down the hallway, a few doors on either side of us. We reached her bedroom and she opened the double French doors, letting me in first. My breath caught in my throat. The walls were painted with Van Gogh's Starry Night. She saw me staring and said, "I assume you know Starry Night? It's my favourite piece. I did it myself, actually. It took a while, but it was well worth it."

I gaped at her.

"You reproduced Starry Night onto your wall? By hand?" I wondered, looking up at her with adoring eyes, "It looks completely flawless...identical, almost."

I walked slowly to touch a wall, caressing the smooth expanse of blue under my fingertips. I saw her move out of the corner of my eye to sit on her four-poster bed. It, too, was dark blue, draped and covered in beautiful blue silk. It looked like dark water underneath her.

"I've always loved Starry Night," she began, "even as a child. The first time I saw it, I cried. It was as if I could feel his sadness in the stars he painted."

I smiled, grateful that the buzzing in my head had lowered to a dull, nearly inaudible droning hum. I made my way to her, sitting myself beside her and leaning my head against her shoulder, then scooting closer and boldly leaning against her chest. I felt her arm wrap around my waist.

"Do you still feel that lonely?" I mumbled into her collar.

"Sometimes," she replied with a soft sigh, "Sometimes."

I reached for her hand, holding her palm against my cheek and nuzzling into it with a kiss.

"I'll change that," I whispered.

She smiled sadly.

"I can only dream."

I leaned in, pressing my lips lightly to hers, hoping she would respond. Which she did. Quite enthusiastically, actually. My mind reeled and my eyes shot open as she pushed her lips firmly to mine, her hand on the small of my back, pressing my body flush against hers. She pulled away, breathless, leaning her forehead against mine. Her eyes were shut tight and I felt her hands shaking.

"Fleur?" I asked worriedly, cupping her cheek with my hand.

She flinched, nearly wrenching herself away from me. I squinted at her, and in the darkness I thought I saw a diamond tear slide down her white cheek.

"This isn't real," she whispered hoarsely, "It can't be. This is wrong. I can't do this."

She stood abruptly, and I heard her mutter under her breath in French, only briefly catching the words "grandmother" and "love". I wondered what on earth her grandmother had to do with anything as I watched her walk across the room and pull open the curtains covering the glass doors that led to her verandah. She opened the door, leaving it open behind her, and leaned heavily on the black iron bar at the edge of the large verandah. Her head hung, her platinum hair creating a glittering shroud around her face. I saw her shoulders shake slightly. I frowned, standing and following her. I rested my hand on her back.

"Fleur...what's wrong?"

I saw her eyes briefly through her hair, and a chill raced through me as I wondered if I was hallucinating or if they really were glowing dully. She laughed bitterly.

"Does it really matter anymore?" she muttered, straightening herself and tossing her blonde sheet of hair regally over her shoulder.

Her eyes no longer glowed. She sat in a fainting chair, reclining back. She beckoned to me and I went to her, laying myself in her lap, leaning back against her. I felt her breath sweep over my ear and neck as she rested her cheek against mine.

"I apologize for my behaviour," she mumbled.

"Mood swings?" I offered.

She chuckled softly.

"Something like that. Maybe I had more wine than I thought."

"Care to tell me?"

"...When I was younger, I asked my grandmother why everyone loved me. She told me it was because of my Veela charm. I asked her if anyone would ever see past that and truly love me for who I was, not what I was. All she said was that the only person who hated me would be the one who could truly love me in the end."

I frowned slightly.

"I don't understand."

"You see, Hermione...up until my seventh year, everyone loved me. Everyone's eyes glazed over when they saw me. They were brain dead. And then I met you. You hated me with a flaming, incinerating passion. And I fell in love with that, with you. I was hoping that..." she trailed off, and I felt her cheeks burning, "I was hoping that you might be the one who would love me."

I smiled at her.

"What makes you think I can't?"

"Because...you don't seem to hate me at all. You're like everyone else..."

"...How could I h-" I began, but she cut me off.

"Exactly. It seems as if my intuition was wrong. It's not you after all. After all these years...I've just been chasing a dream that had no chance at all of ever coming true," she said softly, tilting her head back and looking at the stars.

I opened my mouth to speak, but shut it, knowing that even if I tried, all the noise I'd produce would be a squeak. My heart fell. I felt the all-too familiar coldness of loneliness seize me. I could almost inhale the helplessness in which she wallowed. I turned, looking to her. I felt my breath hitch again as I saw small, diamond stars falling from Fleur's eyes. She was crying. I held her tight.

"I really thought I'd found the right person this time. My obsession with you has been eating me alive for four years. And...it was all for...nothing," she gritted through her white teeth.

I was almost offended that she found me so worthless, but I bit my tongue and said nothing.

"It's hopeless," she sighed, "I'll be alone forever."

I held her face in my hands and leaned in close.

"No. No you won't. Not tonight," I breathed gently into the concave of her ear, burying my face in the side of her neck.

She looked at me, something akin to gratitude in her eyes. She sniffed, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve.

"I'm sorry...I just..." she began.

I stopped her before she could finish, pressing my finger to her lips and shaking my head.

"No more talking," I murmured, grinning at her, "Even though you insist that I'm not the 'one' to be with you forever, I can be with you tonight."

I lay on top of her, one hand on her chest, the other on the back of her neck. I pulled her closer, fixing my mouth firmly to hers, shivering from the heat prickles that exploded under my skin when she wrapped her arms around my waist. Her moan was drowned in my mouth, as was mine when her tongue darted out and flicked across my bottom lip. The trickle of arousal in my belly increased dramatically to a lake. I squirmed. I closed my eyes, focusing on the feel of her tongue tracing my jawline. I tangled my fingers into her hair, and she flipped me over and pinned my hands above my head with one hand in a single smooth motion. Mouths were ravaged with sharp white teeth, then soothed with soft wet tongues. Hands roamed, touching, caressing, squeezing. And the pressure inside of me kept building up at a maddening intensity and speed. Fleur suddenly hooked her arms under my thighs, lifting me easily, and I wrapped my legs around her, kissing her neck and holding onto her strong shoulders. I felt the muscles in her shoulders, arms, and back flex. Odd, how strong she was for someone who looked so slim and soft. She walked inside, holding me all the way, and I heard my own voice murmur in awe, "So strong..."

She lay me on the bed, the door behind her still open. She pulled away for a heartbeat, holding her palm out to the door and flicking her wrist. The door shut and locked. She pulled off her blazer, and I fought to smother a growl as I watched the fabric of her blouse strain against her breasts. Within moments, she had me stripped of everything but my bra and underwear. Her hands were hot against my skin, fingertips trailing softly over my ribs, nails scratching softly at my skin, making me shiver and twitch. I pulled her to me for another searing kiss, all my logic and reason dying on the tip of her tongue. I reached up, tugging at her shirt, my fingers flying over the buttons. I pulled it off of her, never once letting my lips leave hers. I arched my back, pressing into her, supressing a smirk as she groaned at the feel of flesh on flesh. I unbuttoned and unzipped her slacks, sliding them off of her long, smooth, white legs and promptly chucking them across the room. I felt her teeth on my neck, marking, bruising, nipping, eliciting sharp gasps from my throat. I moved my hands down to pull off her panties from the back, only to find bare skin. I dared a peek and saw that she wore a black g-string. I moaned.

"Good God, Fleur," I hissed, feeling her hands slip behind my back to undo my bra clasp, "a g-string?"

My bra took flight, travelling to the far reaches of the room and her lips found my nipple. She chuckled against my breast, and the sensation of the vibrations from her throat and her teeth sent my eyes rolling into the back of my head. I felt her pull away and I whimpered, opening my eyes to glare at her.

"You're really quite cute when you're turned on beyond belief," she said, batting her eyelashes innocently at me.

"Don't. You. DARE. Stop," I growled.

She smirked.

"Already did, love. Is there anything you can do about it?"

I snarled, pouncing on her and pushing her up against the headboard of the bed. I forced her legs apart with my knee and pressed my thigh into her wet, warm mound. She gasped, lurching forward and I laughed.

"Mon Dieu!" she yelped, clutching onto me.

"Oh, dear. That got quite a reaction from you, now didn't it?" I grinned.

"I'm going to hurt you," she mewled as I pushed my thigh harder into her.

"Very convincing."

"Shut up laughing, you."

"Eh, I'm into that bondage stuff anyway."

She laughed throatily, grabbing my arms and throwing me backward onto the bed. She straddled my hips lightly, leaning in again to lavish attention on my aching breasts.

"You evil, evil woman," I moaned.

"Takes one to know one."

She unstraddled my hips, resting her hand on my stomach.

"This is all a bit sudden, isn't it?" she murmured quietly.

"My life was getting to be a tad dull, anyway. I could use some spontaneity and variety," I giggled.

She raised her eyebrow at me. The seriousness that had been there seconds before disappeared, and she became playful again.

"So...would you say it was spontaneous if I did this?" she asked, her hand disappearing below the hem of my panties and her finger flicking across my engorged clit.

I moaned loudly, bucking against her hand. She lay me flat on my back, pressing herself gently against me. She nuzzled her nose against mine, kissing me softly. I reached up, cupping her face in my hands, fluttering gentle kisses across her cheeks.

She pressed one hand under the small of my back, tipping me upwards, arching me towards her with her fingertips as she kissed my throat. I mewled when I felt her teeth marking my skin, felt her nails trailing smooth, tickling trails across my thigh. She tugged my panties off swiftly and laughed when I jerked at the sudden movement. She nuzzled her face in my neck and laughed deep in her throat. Fleur licked her way down my neck, pausing every now and then to nip, stopping at the junction between my legs. She pressed my thighs apart, blowing cold air onto my clit until I shivered.

"Cold?" she purred.

I tangled my fingers in her hair, gently urging her head forward. She laughed again.

"Don't tease," I growled, my chest heaving.

Arctic ice eyes smouldered under half-closed lids. The tiny corners of her lips twitched upward into a smirk. She grabbed the edge of the silk blanket, throwing it over her head, the corner landing on my stomach. I didn't need to ask what she was doing. I knew.

"Teasing builds anticipation. Anticipation builds climax," I heard her muffled voice say, feeling her lips on my thigh.

I arched towards her, whimpering.

"Fleur. Fleur please."

"I'm sorry, what? I can't hear you," her playful voice teased and I felt her running her fingertip along the wet, sticky warmth that she had reduced me to.

She chuckled. I gripped the sheets in my hands. This woman was insane. I squeezed the silk between my fingers, growling when I heard her snicker. I sat up abruptly (I was planning on getting up and teaching her a lesson) regretting it the second I did because I felt her tongue press against me and I couldn't help but cry out. I fell backwards against the headboard, clutching shakily at the pillows beneath my hands as she licked and sucked and nipped and gorged herself. The light pressure, the tension that had been building in my lower belly erupted into a smothering pressure as she continued to lick. A scant two minutes (or was it two seconds?) after she began, I felt her fingers push, wiggle, and thrust their way in. My eyes flew open and stars exploded before them. First it was one finger, then two, then three. And her tongue was insatiable, never stopping. I couldn't control myself, I couldn't stop myself, and I didn't even care if I was even remotely coherent anymore. I just babbled.

Another lick, another bite, another thrust. And I shivered some more and moaned. My thighs shook, and the muscles in my stomach and lower belly squeezed tight and convulsed. I heard the scream tear itself from my throat; I knew it that it was me who screamed, but I didn't sound at all like myself. I felt myself convulse around her fingers, felt my hips buck, felt my back arch. I felt it all to such a great degree that I felt detached from my body. Eternities later, I breathed again and fell back down onto the bed, fell back to earth. She crawled her way up my body, eyes still half-lidded and looking like a content, spoiled housecat. She kissed me deep, curling herself around me, letting me taste myself on her tongue. Night faded into midnight, midnight into dawn and I grew to understand a passage I had read in a book that stated that Veelas were especially known for their endurance and strength, as well as their sexual prowess.

It fascinated me how she made next to no noise as she came. Her lips parted only slightly, and her breath caught and hitched and quivered, but she did not cry out or scream like I had a tendency to. Her eyes squeezed shut and she threw her arms around my neck, pulling herself to me and shivering and twitching, her nails scratching softly at my back. I held her until the shaking subsided, until the natural high of orgasm and adrenaline wore off. Afterward, when we were both sore and tired and cold and numb and shivering, we curled around, into, through, and between each other, holding tight and refusing to let go.

"...Hermione?" she whispered in my ear groggily.

"Mm?"

"Will you regret this tomorrow?"

"No."

"Are you drunk?"

"Not especially. No. Just tipsy."

"...Will you remember?"

I smiled, nudging her ribs gently.

"Of course."

I made sure to keep "How could I forget doing something I'd fantasized of doing since I was in fourth year?" to myself and not mention it.

Fleur's eyes drifted shut and her breathing slowed. I kissed her collar bone, breathing in the smell of her. Her steady breaths and her warmth soon lulled me to sleep.


	6. chapter 5: UNREVISED

Author's Note: Reposted June 22, 2005.

I'm working on Chapter 6 as I type this. I promise. No beta this time.

----

Chapter 5

Fleur's P.O.V

I still haven't decided what it was that roused me. Perhaps it was Hermione's breath in my ear, or the faint click of a door closing that I heard, but I woke. I rolled out of the bed gently, tucking the covers over the still unconscious Hermione, stretched, and pulled on a short blue silk robe. I pulled my hair into a loose ponytail as I walked out of the room, closing the door behind me as I neared the door of my office. I heard muttering. The maids knew better than to enter my office without my express permission. I reached for the door knob, turning it and pushing the door open. My eyes grew wide and my jaw slackened at the sight that greeted me.

"Oh, Fleur. I've been waiting for you," she said, standing up from the chair behind my desk and walking towards me.

She didn't walk, really, she glided, her hips swaying far more than those of most women. Years of modeling do that to you, I suppose. Her curly dark blonde hair streamed behind her, and her dark green eyes were lit up in a smile. I also noticed that her shirt was unbuttoned to show an overly abundant amount of cleavage. I leaned back up against the door, hearing it click soundly shut behind me.

"Don't look so surprised, mon amour," she murmured with a grin, capturing my hands in her own and sliding her fingers up my arms.

She wrapped her arms loosely around my neck, leaning forward and pressing her lips to mine. I did not respond, I only stood in silent shock.

"How did you get in?" I rasped after she pulled away.

"The guard let me in. I told him that you called me and told me that you wanted to see me and that it was business related. You needed me to model a new dress for you."

"I never called you, Jenna."

"I know that, silly. But you wanted to see me, maybe as badly as I wanted to see you. It's been so long."

Jenna rubbed my shoulders, easing out newly-formed knots, looking me in the eye and smiling. Smiling, she was constantly smiling. But this was not the sweet, gentle Jenna smile that she used to give me. This smile was maniacal, insane; I could see the sadistic depravity in the outline of her lips. She nuzzled my neck, breathing deep, and her hand slid from my shoulder to my hip.

"You smell like sex," she said quietly, "and you're naked under the robe. Did you have company last night?"

"Yes."

"Gotten over me already?"

"Yes."

"Poor, poor baby. There you go, lying to yourself again. Like when you said you thought we wouldn't work out because I was too possessive. Silly Fleur. You need me. You're just trying to make me jealous."

"That's quite enough, Jenna."

She laughed in my ear and I felt her hand slide down further to cup my ass. She released a stream of hot air against my neck. I flinched at the feel of her lips against my skin.

"I know you want me. Let's go to bed, Fleur."

"I said that's enough."

"Oh don't be a party-pooper now."

"Isn't it enough that I let you keep your job, Jenna? You're begging to be fired."

"But you need me. I'm one of the prettiest models."

"I may have just found a replacement."

Her eyes narrowed and I felt her nails digging into my skin.

"You can't replace me. Not in your life, not in your runway. You NEED me," she hissed, forcing me back until my legs hit my desk and I had no option but to sit on it.

I shut my eyes briefly and wondered how much trouble I'd get myself into with the Ministry of Magic if I hexed her. She slid her fingers behind my ear, caressing that particular spot with her nail that made my knees weak. I shivered as her other hand tugged my robe gently open. Her eyes roved my body hungrily; I could almost feel the burning tracks she left in her wake.

"I know you, Fleur. I know what makes you weak," she purred, trailing fingers over my stomach as my hand twitched into a shaky fist, "she'll never be as good as me. No one will. Which is why you need to take me back."

I pressed my fist against her chest and pushed her away gently. I felt my face burning, I felt the heat between my legs, and I damned her for knowing my body well enough to know what to do to coax certain reactions from me. I turned my head, my eyes locking with hers and I glared.

"Get out," I said icily.

Forest green oculars widened.

"You can't mean that."

"Get out," I repeated, tying my robe shut.

She clutched onto me, falling to her knees.

"You can't! Don't make me leave!" she cried shrilly, looking up at me desperately.

I scowled at her.

"Remove yourself from my immediate person," I spat.

"Fleur! Let me stay! Let me stay with you! Please!"

"It's been six months, Jenna. That's plenty of time for you to get over me."

"I've been thinking of you, Fleur. Just you. Only you. I need you."

I laughed at her, kneeling on my floor and all but kissing my knees.

"You're fired."

"_What?_"

"That is all, mademoiselle. You are dismissed."

She hissed, lunging forward and kissing me, twining her fingers in my ponytail, her free hand stroking my thigh. My chest burned and tingled as her tongue forced its way between my lips and I tried to bite back and smother a moan, but failed. Her teeth bruised my bottom lip as she bit viciously, and her hand slipped further below the hem of my robe, fingers now stroking, forcing their way inside of me as I choked on her tongue and unwillingly arched into her with a violent shudder. Her lips broke away from mine and she hissed, "I think not, chere."

Before I could let out a breath, her teeth were on my neck, biting hard enough to leave dark bruises but not quite hard enough to draw blood. Her hand never stopped moving, even when I found enough of my voice to hoarsely beg her to stop. I wanted to draw my knees up to my chest and kick her away from me, I wanted to jump up and run away, I wanted to break away, but I couldn't. The only muscles I could feel were the muscles in my arms, coiling around her shoulders to keep myself from falling backwards, and the muscles in my lower belly, clenching and unclenching with each mechanical thrust.

"Jenna..." I heard my voice gasp, catching a small blur of movement by the door before my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

"And you said you didn't want me," she laughed harshly in my ear, "You're a terrible liar."

This was wrong. It was wrong. She was wrong. I gritted my teeth, fighting my body's screaming carnal wants and clenching my fists. I screwed my eyes shut, cocking my right fist back and letting it fly at Jenna's face.

"STOP!" I screamed, feeling my knuckle collide with her cheekbone.

She made a choked noise as she flew backwards off of me and landed on the floor with a heavy thud. She raised her hand, the one she had had in me, to her face, touching her cheek gingerly.

"You bitch," she snarled, rubbing her cheek sorely.

She gathered herself, standing shakily. She approached me slowly, warily, like a hunter approaching a wounded animal. Ironically enough, that was the exact situation we were in. I breathed in deep, standing, grabbing a letter opener off the desk and advancing towards her. My teeth felt crowded in my mouth, and my nails felt sharp digging into my palms. I heard the blood pounding through my veins, the edges of my vision grew hazy, and my skin prickled. I pointed the letter opener at her.

"Get out," I said.

She backed up against the wall, eyes wide.

"You wouldn't."

"Get the hell out before I cut your throat open."

One foot in front of the other. Keep moving forward. Corner her.

"Fleur..."

"I could have you arrested for rape."

She smirked at that.

"You can't rape the willing."

"Get out. Now."

I was inches from her now. I smiled to myself, wondering how warm the inside of her throat would be once I dug my nails in and ripped. I pulled my arm back, slamming the letter opener into the wall hairs from her skull.

"Get the hell out, Jenna. I swear to God I will kill you if you do not leave now," I growled gutturally.

"What the hell is with your face...your eyes?" she whispered, voice shaking uncontrollably, "What the hell are you?"

"Get out," I hissed at her.

She made a noise similar to a squeak and ran for the open door, bolting out. I collapsed to the floor, legs slipping out from underneath me with an unpleasant squelch, streaking the floor with the blood that ran down them. I heard a broken sob and I faintly wondered if it was mine. I felt sick. My chest constricted, and I was afraid to breathe, lest my lungs be punctured by my ribs. I sat like that for a few minutes, just collecting myself and trying not to hyperventilate. I pushed myself to my feet, knees weak, hand pressed to my lower abdomen. The bedroom. I had to make it to the bedroom.

I leaned against the door frame, hand to the wall to keep from slipping on the hardwood floors, tracking blood behind me and not caring. I saw my bed through the open door and I trudged in.

"Hermione?" I called, wondering if she was in the washroom.

I sat on the bed, looking around with furrowed brow. Where had she gone?

"Herm-" I began, but I was cut off by a sudden queasy wave tearing through my belly.

I could not discern at the moment whether it was nausea or dread. Or both.

"Oh God..." I gasped, resting my head in my hands.

I had closed the bedroom door when I exited, and closed the office door behind me.

"Oh God. Oh God, please...no..."

They had been closed, but now they were open. How had they opened? How? Jenna surely couldn't have... What did it mean? The stress was clouding my reason and I screamed in frustration. It dawned on me suddenly, before I even had time to finish screaming.

"She saw," I said dully to the empty room, my voice pressing in on my ears.

Oh God. She'd seen it all.

I stepped out of the shower, toweling myself off and heading for my bed. I sat on the edge, wrapping my towel tighter around my body. I was clean; I had just bathed after all. But still I felt filthy. My eyes wandered to the clock. Twelve PM. Lunch. Twelve PM, midday, and already I was exhausted. The attacks were getting worse. I sighed, reaching for the glass on my end table. I held it between my hands, watching the swirling pink and red liquid, breathing in the steam that issued from it.

"This has got to stop some time," I muttered, sipping at the liquid.

The bitterness of the potion was familiar by now. I turned to the side, eyeing myself in a mirror. Still a faint trace of gold lingered, floating around my vertically slitted irises.

"What the hell is with your face...your eyes? What the hell are you?"

Jenna's voice rang in my ears, and I shook my head to rid myself of it. How many others who'd seen me like this had said the same thing? How many others had I sent running in terror? I always tracked them down, every single person who'd ever seen me lose control. I simply couldn't have them telling people, it was a risk I could not take. So I'd hunt them all down and obliviate their memories, make them forget..

I grimaced slightly, downing the steaming potion. I shuddered violently, coughing. I grunted softly as I felt ice slide through my body, and I clutched the sheets beneath me as frozen daggers cut into my lower belly. Funny that healing was more painful than being wounded. The pain stopped shortly and I exhaled. I hated drinking it, and I rarely did. I drank it only if I needed to badly, despite the fact that my grandmother had instructed that I take it daily. My telephone rang, and I rolled across my bed, reaching for it.

"Yes?" I answered.

"You had another attack, chere?"

"...Grandmother?"

"I felt it. What happened, Fleur?"

"I...it was nothing. Just...stress and anxiety, I suppose."

"Did you lose your temper?"

"...Yes."

"Ah, mon Dieu. Again, again you lose your temper. Did you hurt someone?"

"No. Just scared her."

"Were you hurt?"

"...Not much. It's healed now."

My grandmother sighed heavily, and despite all the sagely advise she's ever given me, words seemed to fail her, so she just murmured, "Thank God."

The line was quiet for a short while, and the thought entered my head that my grandmother was a witch; she had no clue what a phone was or how to use one.

"Grandmother, how are you on the phone? You don't have a telephone. You don't even know how to use one."

"Gabrielle taught me how. I don't understand how Muggles can work these damned...tellyfoans."

I laughed softly.

"I see. Can I talk to her?"

"Of course. Au revoir, Fleur. You take better care of yourself, all right? And be a good girl and take your medicine."

"Au revoir, Grandmother. J'etaime."

"Fleur? Fleur, what the hell's going on with you?" Gabrielle's shrill voice pierced my ears and I cringed.

"I'm fine, Gabby."

"Don't lie to me. Even I felt it, Fleur. You know you're not to lose your temper. You haven't been taking the potion at all, have you? If you had, you'd be fine."

"I just took it."

"Only because you needed to! Fleur, don't do this to yourself. You're falling apart, and everyone in the family but you can tell. You're under so much stress, and you know the potion is the only thing that'll keep you from transforming completely."

"It's not my damned fault she jumped me!" I yelled.

Gabrielle made a wounded noise, and I instantly regretted raising my voice to my dear sister. She was only worried, after all.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Why do you to this to me, Fleur? I'm only trying to help. Every time I try to help, you always get so cross with me."

"I'm sorry."

"I worry about you. There's so much pressure on you. Hold fast, all right?"

"I'm trying, Gabby. Believe me."

"Have you found anyone yet?"

"I thought I did. But...she was just like the rest."

"How long were you with her?"

"One night."

"FLEUR! A FLING will not help you find the right person!" my little sister trilled.

I chuckled.

"I'm sorry, Gabrielle. I was upset, though. I'd hoped it to be her. But she was nothing at all like she was when I last saw her. No fire left in her whatsoever."

"You mean that British girl? From Hogwarts? Hermione?"

"Yes. She was so...love-sick. And swoony."

"...Was she any good last night?"

"You are fifteen, Gabrielle. You do not need to be asking about my sex life," I sighed, rolling my eyes.

She always asked that question. It was inevitable.

"But you always tell me anyway," she pouted.

I sighed, relenting. It was always the pout; no matter what it was, Gabrielle always got to me when she'd pout.

"...She was good."

"Really?"

"Amazing."

"That's goo- Mon DIEU!"

I heard loud beeping noises in the background and I laughed out loud as I heard my dear grandmother curse vehemently.

"Erm, Fleur, I have to go. Grandmama's gotten at the computer again," Gabrielle said hurriedly, "Take care of yourself, okay? And call. You never call me anymore. I miss you."

I smiled softly. I could always count on Gabrielle, if nothing else.

"Thank you, Gabrielle. I will. Au revoir. J'etaime."

"J'etaime, Fleur."

I hung up. Gabrielle was right. But then again, she was rarely ever wrong, being as intelligent as she is. The potion that I neglected to take was the only thing that helped to control my attacks. It was the only thing that kept the feathers from sprouting and the beak from pushing out of my face and my wings from growing. It suppressed the Veela when I lost my temper. Despite the fact that I wasn't even a full-blooded Veela, the Veela blood in my lineage ran strong and potent. Even if but a single drop of Delacour blood was inside of a woman, she'd still change. Grandmother said she'd never met anyone as stressed or pressured as I was, and that all my attacks were anxiety induced. She'd also added that it was because I was lonely.

"You see, mon amour, you have to find the right person. At first, it may seem as though they hate you, but it is better to be hated and heard by one than be loved and droned out by the rest, no? Because you see, the one who hates you is the only one who can ever really care. They are the only one that can see past your beauty and see you. They are the only ones who can ever get close enough to you to control your Veela side," she'd said, "Without them, your Veela side will win you over and you will lose control. Oh, my dear child, I fear for you, especially. You are incredibly beautiful, even among Veelas. Your search will be long and painful, and the Good Lord only knows how many times you will be let down. You have so many troubles in your young life already, and I fear that your troubles will only weaken your human resolve. Your horrendous temper does not help the matter, either. I fear that your Veela side may win you over before you find the right person. You may be one of the few of our kind who loses herself."

I sighed heavily, heart sinking at the thought that even my ever-wise grandmother doubted that I'd find the person to tame me. I stood, getting dressed. I had to find Hermione. Even though she wasn't the right person, I had to go to her and explain. She deserved that much.

My face flushed crimson red as yet another door creaked open.

"Hermione, please, just let me come in. Let's settle this like adults, no?"

"NO IS RIGHT! GET THE HELL AWAY!" she screamed through her door.

I had driven to her hotel and knocked on her door, seeking entrance. I was viciously denied and told to "rot in hell". I'd wanted to explain to her what had happened, but she refused to hear me out. So I stood, talking to her calmly through her door whilst she threw tantrums behind it and bellowed obscene things at me and threw random objects in my general direction. It was humiliating, standing there dressed like a common teenager with a zip-up hooded sweatshirt and denim jeans and a baseball cap and everything, with a hysterical English woman yelling surprisingly colourful vulgarities at me through the perhaps two-inch thick door.

"Mademoiselle Granger, you are being quite juvenile," I snapped, tugging the rim of my hat further down over my eyes.

"And you're being downright annoying!"

I gritted my teeth, reminding myself to keep calm. I could not risk losing my temper here, not here with so many people. People were gathering in the hallway, staring at me, whispering to one another.

"I only want to explain," I beseeched.

"There's nothing TO explain!"

I felt the crowd part behind me as a body shoved through it violently.

"You're handsome, but remove your hand from my arse, I've got a boyfriend," I heard a familiar voice quip.

A mildly disheveled Draco Malfoy stood by my side, brushing himself off, muttering something about smelly barbarians.

"Sooo...trouble in paradise already, eh?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows at me and jerking his thumb at Hermione's still solidly shut door.

"Something like that," I muttered.

"Harry reckons I've got buns of steel. Want me to ram the door down for you?"

Anything I might've said died in my throat at the alarmingly frightening mental image he had supplied me with.

"No thank you."

"I'm sorry, Fleur," he said softly, looking me in the eye, "She can be a tad bitchy sometimes, that Granger. But really, she's a good girl."

I rested my hand on his shoulder.

"I don't doubt that, Draco. I just wish she'd listen."

He laughed and said, "Er...well, yeah. That sort of ties in with the whole 'bitch' thing."

I rolled my eyes, laughing with him.

"Say, why don't you and I get some tea or something and talk a bit, eh? We'll come back here later, when Hermione the Hermit crawls out of her cave."

Draco winked at me, offering me his arm. I grinned, linking my arm with his.

"Why, I'd love to, my lady," I chuckled.

"It's my pleasure, sir knight," he giggled, skipping off with me in tow to the cafe.

Draco nodded sagely, sipping at his tea delicately, eyes closed.

"That's sexual assault," he said, opening his eyes.

I nearly snorted tea through my nose.

"Draco, that's what I've been saying for the past ten minutes!"

"Well...I just thought I'd tell you."

"Oh, well then, thank you, O Great One."

"You're quite welcome, my young Padawan."

I almost twitched, wondering who on Earth had introduced Draco to Muggle movies. Especially Star Wars.

"So you think she saw it all?" he asked me, setting his teacup down.

"Well, no. Not all. Apparently. Despite how hateful she seems to be, I believe she'd have at the very least helped me to my feet when I fell. Because you know, I was sort of bleeding and all. Most people are struck by some spirit of kindness and want to help bleeding French models when they fall over in shock after slamming letter openers into the wall."

"Poor wall."

"It's taken such a beating from me and my fits."

"I'd bet. You seem to be the violent type. If I was straight, I'd probably think it was kinky."

I choked, whapping him backside the head.

"DRACO!"

"I was just kidding! Geez...You are violent, though," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head sorely.

"I know she's not the right person for me, but I still wish she'd give me a chance to explain."

Draco smiled at me, but it seemed a bit lackluster in comparison to his previous smiles.

"One-hit wonder, was she? Is that really fair of you, Fleur?"

I reeled back as if struck.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You haven't talked to Hermione in years, and yet you feel as though you can judge whether or not she's worthy of being with you already? In the course of one night?"

I leaned forward, tapping his forehead with my spoon.

"Are you really Draco Malfoy?"

He laughed softly, pulling the spoon from between my fingers.

"How can you ever expect to find the right person to be with if you judge them so quickly? Just because they don't show immediate signs of a passionate hatred doesn't mean they can't be it."

I shook my head.

"You don't understand, Draco. My life depends on finding the right person."

His silver eyes widened and immediately teared up. He fell forward on his elbows, clutching at my hands and letting out a strangled, pathetic sob. His eyes were about as large and teary as a kicked puppy's.

"Suicide is not the answer, Fleur!" he wailed.

I wondered how many tabloids would have the headline: "PRETTY GIRL WITH A SAD SMILE: FLEUR DELACOUR, THE SUICIDAL SUPERMODEL" by tomorrow. I laughed softly, prying his vice-like grip from my hand.

"Not that, Draco. I already told you that I'd lose control and become a full Veela if I don't find the right person. I'd just be a big, mindless, man-eating bird."

"I envy you."

"Why on Earth would you?"

"You'll get to fly! I wanna fly!"

"So you think I'm screwed over too, don't you?"

He smiled again, brighter, but still a little sad.

"You don't have enough hope in people, especially in yourself. That's what screws you over, Fleur. You've got to give some second chances. One night is just not enough."

I laughed, shaking my head softly. His eyes went wide, and the dopey Draco I knew so well reemerged.

"What's so ruddy funny?" he demanded.

"They're right. All the decent ones are gay."

He snorted.

"Oy, Fleur. I've been wondering."

"What?"

"Is it just me, or do all lesbians have serious people issues? I mean, seriously, look at Herm. She's so twitchy and antisocial. She likes books, but that's about it. At any sign of trouble, especially in a relationship, she'll hole herself up in her room for ages and refuse to come out till she's half-starved. And you...you're desperate to find the right person. And you want someone who hates you. Lesbians are so weird. Is it just lesbians? Or is it women in general? I don't get women. Lordy, no wonder I'm gay."

I rolled my eyes.

"Draco, you're such a fag," I chuckled.

He grinned earnestly.

"Aww...thank you!" he giggled, launching himself at me and clinging to me in a hug.

I felt him cuddling into my shoulder and he whispered in my ear, "Give her another try, Fleur. Please. She really likes you."

I closed my eyes, wanting to tell him that that was the exact reason why I couldn't let her have another go.

"Second try, Fleur. Do it for Dray," he pouted.

"Or?"

"...Or I'll hump you to death. Right here, right now. Look at the position we're in. It won't be great for either of us, I can tell you that now."

I twitched.

"You have serious issues, Draco."

"Please, Fleur? Give Herm another try?"

I sighed heavily.

"Fine. Fine. Now kindly pry yourself off of me."

"I can't."

"And why not?"

"Your hair's stuck on my shirt button."

"Oh God."

"Yep."

Ages and many embarassing and awkward twists and positions later, we had managed to disentangle my hair from Draco's button, both of us laughing loudly and reassuring the crowd that we were not romantically involved. A microphone popped out of nowhere and shoved itself near Draco's mouth and the reporter asked for the millionth time if we were together.

"Oh, heaven's no! I'm gay!" he squealed, waving his hands insanely.

Apparently, his display left no doubt regarding his sexual orientation. Or at least not much. Then microphones all mysteriously appeared around me, and voices asked me what happened to my mysterious date last night. I refused to comment. I grabbed Draco, dragging him behind me while cameras flashed and reporters screamed questions at us. Draco was struggling to get free, possibly to wring someone's neck.

"What part of GAY do you not understand?!" he bellowed at one male reporter in particular, one who kept asking if he was sure he was gay.

"I AM A HOMOSEXUAL!" he bellowed loudly.

I was surprised all the windows in the nearby shops didn't shatter at his exclamation. The cameras were flashing and the voices chattered on and on unstoppably until they all ran together and created a new tongue. I shut my eyes and gritted my teeth, dragging Draco harder, the thin blonde trailing behind me as I walked quickly ahead, pulling my sunglasses over my eyes.

"Mademoiselle Delacour! Mademoiselle Delacour! A word, if you please!" the reporters cried after us.

"We need to get out of here," I muttered, tugging him into a side alley.

It was a typical alley, complete with smelly trash cans and stray cats. Treading slimy, cracked pavement underfoot, I led Draco towards a small bar or club. A cheap wooden sign hung from an iron bar overhead, reading "PANDORA'S BOX" in large, embossed red letters.

"Pandora's Box? A club, but...where's the bouncer? I don't see any bou-" Draco began, but he was interrupted by the clacking of high-heels and people bellowing at me to please stop and talk to them.

"Inside!" I hissed, pushing the thin man in front of me, shoving the door open and closing it securely behind us.

"Fleur, they'll still get us, you know," he said, raising his eyebrows at me, peering through my smoky lenses and tapping them with his fingernail gently, "Where'd you get those? I like those."

I sighed, elbowing him with a grin.

"They won't get us. Pandora's is like your Leaky Cauldron in London. No Muggles," I huffed, glad to get away from the noisy paparazzi, who I was sure would make something of my public outing with Draco, "And these are Gucci."

Only then did we notice that all the people sitting at the nearby tables had turned and stared at us. I pulled my hat off, shaking my ponytail loose from the back of it, pulling off my sunglasses in the process. Strands of my hair fell into my eyes, and I huffed a breath at them in an attempt to move them away. However, they only flopped back into my eyes. Unzipping my sweatshirt and pulling it open, I heard Draco laugh.

"What?" I demanded.

"Good Lord, Fleur, don't undress...seems like you've got quite a fanclub already, though," he replied, tilting his head towards the bar, where women and men alike sat swooning.

I rolled my eyes, waving at them with a small smile, walking past them after calling to the bar tender, "Anneliese, we're passing through the back."

We walked slowly down a few corridors in silence, coming to a halt in front of a portrait of a blonde woman with black wings and silver eyes.

"Password?" she asked crisply.

"Rigor mortis," I murmured.

"Oh, how cheerful," Draco said dryly as the portrait swung forward, allowing us entrance.

I walked through the portrait hole, finding myself in a bustling street. Draco followed shortly behind and the portrait swung closed.

"This is Pristine Boulevard," I explained as I moved forward, feeling Draco clutch onto my sleeve so as not to get lost.

I saw the old, small library up ahead and I smiled, approaching it, only somewhat noticing how the crowd seemed to part to let me through. The library had always been my safe haven, a place where I could stop being the pretty girl with the pretty smile and for once let myself be the bookworm I truly was. I heard Draco groan.

"Books? Good Lord, you're just like Hermione," he mumbled, "I hate books."

I laughed, pointing to the side to a candy shop, "You can go get yourself some sweets then, if you'd like."

I heard only an excited squeal before Draco disappeared in a stampede of dust, his passionate bellow of "CANDYYY!" soaring high over the drone of the crowd. I shook my head slowly, tutting, amazed that such a hyperactive, childlike excuse of a man had baffled me with his seriousness and depth not twenty minutes ago. I pushed the door open, hearing the familiar bell tinkle overhead. The aged clerk smiled widely at me from behind the counter.

"Ah, Fleur! At first I thought you were another English tourist. We've been getting so many of them lately. It's been a while since your last visit, Fleur! I was afraid you had forgotten about old Acheron," he chortled, pushing his thick glasses up his nose, his mustache wiggling as he spoke.

I grinned at him, leaning over the counter and hugging him tight.

"I could never forget you, Acheron, you're like my grandfather. I've just been busy. I'm sorry I haven't visited in a while, though," I said, pulling back and looking around dreamily at the countless shelves crammed full of books.

He chuckled, seeing my starry expression and saying, "Welcome home, chere. Well, don't let old Acheron keep you from your books. Surely you're dying to read something, no?"

"Mon Dieu...you have no idea."

I ventured through the store, sliding my fingers gently across familiar shelves. I'd always come in here as I child, and even until just recently, until I had my sudden business boom and I became too busy to drop by. I walked down an aisle, snatching a thick, dusty volume from a shelf, knowing by heart that the title was "Mythical and Magical Creatures". I opened it as I walked, flipping through the pages idly, eyes roving hungrily over the words. I fell back with a thud as I ran into something soft and solid at the same time, probably another person.

"Watch where you're going," they snapped.

I looked up, seeing a disgruntled and worn-out looking brunette with auburn curls spilling over her shoulders glaring down at me. Almond eyes widened in recognition.

"Fleur..." Hermione muttered.

I got to my feet, brushing myself off. When I raised my eyes again, she had already whirled around and was ready to stalk away, but I grabbed her wrist, holding her fast.

"You're not going anywhere until you let me explain," I said quickly.

"Like I said, there's nothing to explain," she said coldly, turning her head only slightly to glare at me from the corner of her eyes.

I growled, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her against a bookcase, staring her dead in the eye and hissing, "Will you stop bitching for ONE SECOND and listen!"

She put her hands on my chest, shoving me back.

"We both agreed last night."

"Agreed to what?"

"That I wasn't the one for you. That what we had, we had for one night only."

I fell silent.

"What else is left to discuss, Fleur? You said yourself that there was no way we would work out," she said softly.

I opened my mouth to speak, but my words failed me. She smiled sadly at me.

"That's what I thought."

"Draco," I began, and seeing her interest pique, I continued, "Draco said I should give you...us another try."

Her eyes widened, and something in my stomach fluttered. She laughed bitterly.

"You've got Jenna, Fleur. I would hate to interfere."

"Jenna and I have nothing. We haven't had anything for six months."

"Well, nothing sure seems rather interesting. On the desk, Fleur? Honestly."

I felt heat rise to my cheeks and I frowned.

"That wasn't done with my consent!" I growled defensively.

"Oh, right. And I suppose the way you were clutching onto her and moaning her name is supposed to convince me of that?"

My hands clenched into fists, and try though I did to slow it, my heart rate began to rise. Blood slammed through my veins, the noise echoing and ricocheting in my head. I felt my limbs shake slightly.

"You're a pathetic liar," she spat.

My chest tightened, much more quickly than usual, and I swayed, coughing and leaning on a bookshelf for support. My heart was trying to beat its way out of my ribcage, I was convinced. I pressed a hand to my chest in an ineffective attempt to still it.

"Oh, is your heart breaking?" she laughed mockingly.

Perhaps it was. I wasn't transforming, not at all. My skin didn't prickle, my vision wasn't hazy. In truth, it was just my chest--no, my heart, that pained me. Draco had warned me that Hermione was a bit of a bitch, but I was unprepared for the taunting. She laughed softly, tossing her curls over her shoulder.

"Painful, isn't it?" she whispered, tilting her head to the side and looking me dead in the eye.

I felt my lips curl into a smile and I let my hand drop to my side, straightening myself to a dignified, upright stance. I walked to her until I stood inches from her. I leaned forward, mouth close to her ear and whispered, "Death would be a welcome reprieve."

She glared at me as if to tell me not to speak in such a manner.

"Honestly Fleur, it can't be that bad. I've been alone for a while and I'm perfectly fine," she snorted.

Without even thinking, I handed my book to her saying, "Read this when you can."

I walked on, leaving her behind me, not at all expecting her to follow like she did. Squinting at the spines of the books, I hunted for one that looked promising. A red book with "Veelas: Sad Beauty" on the spine jumped out at me amid the grey books. I shook my head slowly, pulling it out and wondering aloud why I seemed to find only books about Veelas.

"I noticed that as well," Hermione said timidly, "There are loads of books in this library about Veelas alone. I suppose because there are Veela families here in France."

I turned, handing her the book as well.

"We are on speaking terms again, I assume?" I said.

"I suppose," she muttered, "Not like you'd stop stalking me until I said we were, anyway."

She frowned slightly, looking up at me and quickly adding, "But it doesn't mean that I'm interested in you, you know. We couldn't work out anyway. We're too...different. So tell Draco that I said no to his idea. And besides, I have to be nice to you. We're in public. Don't expect such royal treatment though when we're alone."

"You like me too much anyway," I said with a shrug.

Hermione tutted and rolled her eyes, "What are you, a masochist?"

"But of course. Pain is wonderful. I love making my life complicated," I laughed dryly, "Even though I really have no say."

"That means what to me, exactly?"

"Read the books," I muttered, pulling another one off a shelf and reading the title aloud, "Relaxation and Meditation Techniques: How to Be at Peace."

I raised my eyebrow skeptically, but tucked it under my arm anyway, moving on to pick out several fiction books, Hermione behind me all the while. We checked out our books together, neither of us speaking to the other. Acheron hugged me again before letting us off.

"I wonder," I began as soon as Hermione and I stepped out into the busy streets, "why you made such a fuss."

I felt her gaze swivel to me, felt it slowly turning into a glare.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, even as I led her into a potion supplies store.

"You said that we had agreed it wouldn't work out. And yet, when you saw me with Jenna, you threw a fit, ran off, and hid yourself in your room and publicly humiliated me by yelling at me through your door."

She froze just as she was about to push the door open, but regained her composure and stormed in after me.

"That's a bit much coming from you, isn't it? You said yourself that you were not in a relationship with anyone, that you had nothing going on, and yet I find you the morning after spending the night with you sitting on your desk and going at it with another woman. And you have the audacity to wonder why I'm upset?"

"Hm. However, you did say that you were with me for just a night. So you knew that it was just a fling. So if it was just a fling, why were you so angry?"

"Oh for the love of God, woman! I was half drunk!" she hissed.

"So are you now insinuating that I took advantage of you?"

"Stop putting words in my mouth!"

"I am doing nothing to your mouth, Mademoiselle Granger," I smirked, "If I was, you'd have noticed, no?"

She exhaled sharply, throwing her hands up in defeat and muttering, "I don't know why I ever found you attractive. I thought that you had changed from the arrogant, conceited, snobby, pompous French girl from Beauxbatons, but apparently I have proved myself wrong...with your help, of course."

"And here I was, thinking you to be observant," I shot back, peering intently at a bottle on a dusty shelf, noticing the people around us staring.

"You are such a bitch!" she cried shrilly, snatching the bottle out from under my nose.

I snatched it back.

"Takes one to know one."

"Oh, that was SO intelligent. That's twice you've used that line on me."

"I thought you were half drunk. I'm surprised you were sober enough to keep count."

She growled, fists clenching, gritting her teeth. I smirked, realizing how cute she was when angered.

"You," she ground out, "are THE most infuriating individual I have EVER come across in the entire duration of my lifetime!"

"I'm so glad."

"You WANT me to slap you, don't you?"

I heard the whispers around us, and I tuned Hermione's growling out, listening to the people around us.

"Lovers' spat, don't you think?" one woman whispered to her friend.

"Oh, obviously. It's Fleur Delacour, don't you know. That girl looks to be the date she had last night. They've probably been dating behind the press's back for quite some time now. They bicker like a married couple. It's really quite cute, really. Fleur looks to be enjoying herself," the friend replied.

Apparently, Hermione heard as well, because her face coloured. She bottled her rage for the moment, but I was willing to bet that she'd lash out again later, when we were alone. Like she'd said.

"Bleeding Heart Extract?" she asked, apparently in an attempt to change the subject, peering at the label on the bottle in my hand, "I can't say I've ever heard of it...What is it?"

"Tibetan funeral flowers, Bleeding Hearts. The extract can be used in several different potions, most to heal," I said absently, reaching for a bottle of Belladonna extract and putting it in the basket I had grabbed, alongside the Bleeding Heart extract.

The two women chattered on to one another, unaware that I could hear them babbling about how we seem to have calmed down and patched up.

"Belladonna...isn't that a flower? A lily?"

"Very good, Mademoiselle Granger."

"It's poisonous, though. What, are you making a toxin or something?"

"Au contraire. Intelligent though you are, Potions was not your favourite subject, was it?"

"I can't say that it was. Transfiguration and Arithmancy were my favourites."

"I've always loved Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Herbology, although I must say I loved all my subjects. The toxins from a Belladonna lily, if brewed properly and handled with care, can make for a potent healing potion."

"What's with you and healing potions?" she questioned, eye warily traveling the length of the underside of my forearm as I reached in front of her.

"Why does everyone seem to think that I'm suicidal?" I grumbled, putting a small vial of crushed African Violets into the basket as well.

"What's all this for?"

"A potion."

"I could've told you that. What kind of potion?"

"A potion that I have to take daily but never do. You can think of it as medicine, if you wish."

We meandered through the store, gathering powdered Hematite, dragonfly wings, and liquid extracts from five different kinds of orchids.

"It's funny," Hermione began as I piled the items up on the counter and the elderly witch behind it rang them up for price, "that you use so many floral ingredients in your potion, and that you know so much about flowers."

"I specialized in Botanical and Floral Potions at Beauxbatons, and I had the highest marks in all the Herbology classes for all my seven years there."

"Your name means flower."

"I am well aware," I said, and turning to the elderly witch who smiled widely at me and handed me the bags with my items after I paid, I nodded my thanks, "Thank you."

We walked out again, Hermione still following behind me. I wondered why she didn't stay by my side, but said nothing of it. Once outside, we saw Draco, who was sitting cross-legged on a bench under a tree enthusiastically ravishing a gigantic lollipop with his tongue and making obscene noises to go with it. I raised an eyebrow and tapped him on the forehead, receiving only a slurp and a moan in response. I tried hard not to twitch, but I couldn't fight it long. His eyes were rolled into the back of his head and he was swaying slightly.

"D...d'you think he's all right?" Hermione asked shakily, eyeing the candy-possessed Draco.

"I'm not sure I want to know," I murmured.

She reached towards the lollipop, prepared to yank it away, but Draco snarled and slapped her hand, pulling his legs up onto the bench with him and scooting to the other end and curling around his candy protectively.

"Miiiine," he hissed, "my precioussss...my oooown. My lurrrve..."

"This is entirely your fault, I hope you know," Hermione said matter- of-factly, "You get to explain to Harry why his boyfriend will be acting like a hyperactive ferret, more so than usual, when we get back to the hotel. Because I'm not doing it."

I noticed the impressively large bag, stuffed to burst with various candies. I reached in, pulling out a Chocolate Frog and coaxing Draco off of his bench with it, waving it behind me and in his face as I walked, leading Draco and Hermione towards Pandora's.

"Here, Draco, here boy. Good boy, Draco. Come here, Draco, good boy," I crooned, reaching out and patting Draco on the head, even as he gurgled incoherently at me from behind his lollipop.

I opened the door, throwing the small package in, noticing the expressions of bewilderment on the customers' faces when Draco lunged in with a war cry after the Chocolate Frog. He sat on the floor, smiling contentedly, shoving the Frog into his mouth, soon followed by the multi- coloured lollipop.

"That man sure loves his candy," I murmured.

"No joke," Hermione agreed with a giggle.

We dragged Draco to the back towards the painting that would lead to the Muggle world, the boy completely oblivious to everything but his sugar heaven. After uttering the password and emerging on the other side, we proceeded then to drag him into a cab and drive back to the hotel.

Ten minutes later, we exited the taxi. I hastily shoved money into the driver's hands, who was yelling at me and protesting and demanding more money, seeing as how Draco had drooled all over the seats and windows in the back in his excess enthusiasm. With a nervous laugh, I shut the door in the driver's face and Hermione and I continued to tug and pull the now nearly sugar-comatose Draco into the hotel, in the elevator, and into Hermione's room. We threw the unconscious man on the floor, only to be knocked flat on our backs when he bounced right back up onto his feet and began chattering away at the speed of sound. Not a single word could be understood, but his eyes were abnormally wide and he was perkier than ever. He power-walked around the room, skipping and randomly doing odd, disturbing little dances at such ridiculous speeds that he looked as though he were an aerobics video instructor being fast-forwarded. He twitched and frothed at the mouth slightly as he spoke, and after a while, I was simply just overcome by the need to suppress him, thus resulting in a karate chop to the back of his head, knocking him out. He sprawled on the floor then curled into a ball and sucked on his thumb.

"...Glad that's over," Hermione gasped between laughs, falling backwards onto her bed.

I laughed as well, sitting on the edge, "Me too."

"HIYA!" a high-pitched voice yelped, and a weight hit the bed and suddenly I found myself in the awkward position of laying atop Hermione, who squeaked in surprise.

I felt the bed quiver as...something skittered its way on.

"Awww...I'm sorry. Did I interrupt something?" Draco asked childishly, eyes wide, peering curiously at me and Hermione.

I rolled off of her quickly, trying to hide my blush.

"I thought you were unconscious?" I coughed, turning and staring at Draco, who was now bouncing on the bed.

"Was I really?" he mused.

He hopped off the bed and to Hermione's dresser, digging through the top drawer and throwing a few select articles of clothing in our general direction. I caught one in the face, and, embarrassed, I pulled it off, holding it in my hand. I stared at it for a second before I realized that it was a thong, an ultraviolet one at that. I cleared my throat and, not really knowing what to do with it; I hooked my pinky on the side strap and held it out to Hermione who eagerly took it from me. She stood, picking up the Daily Prophet and thwacking Draco upside the head with it.

"What in BLAZES are you doing, Draco!" she yelped, shoving panties back into the drawer and slamming it shut just after he pulled his fingers out.

"Nearly got me fingers, you did," he pouted, waggling them at her.

I noted the lacy, see-through, black thong that sat on the bed beside me. I also noticed that it was one of my designs, a product in my line. I stood behind Hermione, reaching over her head and slowly lowering the thong until it hung directly in her face. I rested my chin on her shoulder.

"You might want this," I whispered.

She snatched it away and shoved it into the drawer then spun around and looked at me. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked as though she was trying to decide whether she should yell at me or just say nothing.

"Awww...you two are SO cute!" Draco squealed.

"Um, Draco, we're not-" Hermione began.

"I have an idea! We should all go out for dinner tonight! And then go to a bar and get completely trashed and have hot, wild, lemur sex afterward!" he bellowed, galloping about the room.

"How about we just pretend that we did and I go home?" I interjected.

"Nonsense! Sex and alcohol are wonderful things!" Draco cried, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, "But I'm afraid you and Herm'll have to do without me and Harry. Y'see, we only do guys. Maybe Ron'll join you, though. Poor old boy."

I nearly gagged at the thought of tall, lanky, redhead Ron even kissing me.

"I think I'll just do without altogether," I muttered.

Hermione laughed, devoid of good humour.

"You weren't so hesitant last night, Fleur," she said.

"If I remember correctly, Mademoiselle Granger, it was you who started it all."

"I was drunk."

"I offered you the guest room. You declined."

"I was drunk."

"You weren't even drunk. You were tipsy."

"Still, my better judgment was impaired."

"Be ready by seven sharp, lovers!" Draco called to us, somehow having made his way to the door without our noticing.

"Draco, I can't go," I said, determined to get out of it.

"Don't be silly! Of course you can! Don't be too formal, but look nice. We're going dancing! I'll see you later," he trilled, skipping out the door.

There was naught but silence for a few minutes after Draco left. I turned, heading for the door.

"I have to go," I muttered.

Pushing the door open, I prepared to take my leave. I, however, was immediately propelled backwards back into the room by the hyperactive gay blonde who, for some odd reason, had stood patrol outside of it to make sure I made no attempts at escape.

"Unless you're going to pick up clothes or going shopping, which is what I doubt you're doing, neither of you are leaving this room. You're both about the same size. I'm sure you can find something in that closet for both of you to wear," he growled, "Now humour me and change."

He promptly spun me round, placing his hands firmly on the small of my back and pushing me back into the room.

"It's 6:30 already, I'd get ready fast if I were you," he twittered, closing the door behind him and skipping off.

I sat on the bed heavily, sighing.

"Attempts at running away are futile. If you hadn't noticed," Hermione said to break the silence.

I grunted in response. Damn that man. He had his mind frame set, and that was to get Hermione and I together. I sighed again, snapping an elastic hair-tie off my wrist and pulling my hair into a sloppy bun and rolling my sleeves up.

"Might as well get started then," I murmured, opening Hermione's closet.

I was relatively surprised to find that a large majority of her clothing was from my line.

"Fan of my work or something?" I inquired, tilting my head back to look at her.

She blushed, crossing her arms over her chest and huffing something that sounded akin to, "Something like that."

I frowned slightly, wondering just how bipolar this...relationship or whatever it could be called was. Madly in love and swooning one second, screaming and fighting the next, then borrowing each other's clothes and going out for dinner and dancing afterwards. I chuckled softly, shaking my head.

"Odd, isn't it?" I asked.

Hermione, who had been digging through a drawer for something, stopped what she was doing and asked, "What is?"

"That we're biting each other's heads off one moment, then kissing and making it all better the next."

Hermione snorted, stretching herself up indignantly to her full height.

"Who said there'd be any more kissing involved?"

I shrugged, pulling out black slacks and sleeveless Grecian cut halter top the colour of smoky glass.

"This all right?" I queried, holding it out for Hermione to see.

She shrugged, "Sure."

I pulled off my shoes and socks, soon followed by my sweatshirt, pants, and t-shirt.

"You just strip in plain view, don't you?" Hermione murmured, turning away demurely.

She didn't turn in time to hide her blush, however. I quirked an eyebrow.

"It's not like you haven't seen it before," I said.

Her face enflamed. For a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something but thought better of it and decided not to. She turned around with a nearly inaudible huff and I heard a zip. Next thing I knew, she was standing by me in her underwear, a garter, and thigh-high stockings reaching into the closet. She pulled out a solid black dress that hugged the contours of her body like a shadow. It was simple but elegant; it connected behind the base of her neck and held the dress up. The front was healthily swooped to the middle of her firm belly, exposing a fair but not indecent amount of skin. She calmly stepped into high heels, and continued to pretend I didn't exist.

When at last a soft knock fell upon the door, I had to practically step on my own feet to keep myself from lunging at the door. I pulled it open to see Draco, neatly groomed as usual, standing beside Harry, disheveled as usual. Before Draco could even breeze into the room I had pushed past him and was walking down the hallway as quickly as I could. I heard him huff indignantly and storm after me. I felt his hand close around my wrist and he turned me round.

"Where are you going?" he hissed, eyes alarmingly wide.

I looked back at Hermione's room, into the open door. I saw Harry smile softly at her and wrap her in a bear hug as she covered her face and leaned into his embrace; saw his hand rub her back and she shook her head into his chest. I sighed heavily, prying his hand from my arm. The last place I wanted to do was go out for dinner and a dance with a flamboyantly gay blonde man, his hopelessly ungroomable boyfriend, and the woman I had spent the night before with and now hated me with a flaming passion after seeing me with an ex-girlfriend. I turned slowly and began to walk again, slowly and calmly this time.

"Let's just go, Draco. Get this over with as soon as possible," I murmured.

He sighed.

"Just try and get along, all right?"

"Fine. But let's just go."

"This is going to be a great night," he said dryly, "I can tell already."


	7. Chapter 6 no beta

** Author's Note: **So. Here's your chapter. My continued profuse apologies for the year-long gap in updating. It's been a bad year. But anyway, this chapter is kind-of long. I hope you aren't too disappointed with it. Also, it seems as though my beta-readers have spontaneously gone MIA. Anyone interested in applying for the position can contact me via AIM: ic0sah3dr0n (I'm almost always on) or email me at: This is completely un-betad, so please excuse any errors for now.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 6**  
_Hermione_

"So...where are we going, exactly?" Ron asked, opening the door to Draco's Volvo and letting me in.

"Dinner and dancing, that's what Draco said," Harry murmured, helping Draco into the backseat after me.

I raised an eyebrow. Apparently, Harry would be driving and Draco would be sitting in the back with the girls- not that he was out of place.

"We're going out to a nice little Indian place because it's not too far from where we're going, it has fabulous food, and I love the lighting. I come to Paris a lot and I always eat there," Draco quipped, helping Fleur into the roomy back.

Ron sat in the passenger's seat and Harry slid into the driver's.

"We're going to some place because you like the lighting? Geez, mate, you could've at least warned me, y'know? Then maybe I would've been able to call up someone from back home and ask her to Floo over here so I'd have a date. I'll look like a dolt, being totally alone-like..." he mumbled moodily, squinting back at Draco and pouting.

"Oh, darling, not the face. I'd love to be your date, but I'm with Harry," Draco said absently, powdering his nose.

Ron sighed heavily and slouched in his seat.

"That's not what I meant at all..." he muttered.

Draco giggled, grabbing my hand and playing with it as had become his habit.

Without thinking, I said, "You can be my date, Ron. I was instantly rewarded with a sharp, swift, Draco elbow in my torso.

"Or not," I grumbled, rubbing my side sorely.

"Ehm, Dray-darling?" Harry asked.

"Mmm?" Draco was bouncing my curls now.

"What's the goopey brown stuff I like? It's got like...chicken and...it's brown. And goopey? And it's really good. Remember? First time we went there I refused to try it because it looked like chicken swimming in melted peanut butter, but after you stuffed it down my throat I almost emptied the entire buffet of it? They'll have some, right?"

"Redundant as always, my dear. It's chicken curry. And yes, they will have some. They always do. I swear, he's got a curry fetish or something," Draco sighed, rolling his eyes and grabbing Fleur's hand and playing with it.

Fleur made a noise that might have been a mildly amused sigh, and I saw her squeeze Draco's hand. I closed my eyes, resting my head on the window.

"Hermione?"

I opened my eyes, finding myself staring into sparkling baby blue eyes. Blonde bangs fell into said eyes, obscuring them, but only a tiny bit. I followed a strand that fell across the tall bridge of her nose, followed the straight line of her nose down to her smiling pink lips. I smiled. It was a real smile. I could tell because I felt warmth spreading through me, from my lips to my cheeks, to my neck, all through my body and into my very veins and bones. I reached out, cupping that sweet, young face that was always smiles and warmth and boundless energy and soft skin that stole its golden hue from the sun. I traced her dimples with my fingertips, her eyebrows, her cheekbones, the contour of her strong jaw, the curves of her lips, and I kissed her.

"Hermione..."

I smiled again and said her name in my own mind, the vowels and consonants bouncing off the walls of my skull.

"Alicia?"

The hands that had been shaking my shoulders pulled away as my eyes snapped open. Greenish-grey. Not baby blue. Short, shiny, platinum white-blonde. Not dark blonde with lighter highlights she'd always had from flying on her broom under the sun. Draco. Draco, not Alicia. Malfoy, not Spinnet.

"D-Draco...I...what just happened?"

"We're here, darling. You must've fallen asleep," a small frown was evident on his pretty face.

I looked to the side and saw Ron shakily offer one of his enormous hands to Fleur, who took it and gracefully got out of her seat. I saw Ron turn purple and heard him start to laugh nervously.

"Alicia, Hermione? What's going on?" Draco asked, peering into my eyes.

Apparently, her name was uttered not only in my mind but aloud as well.

"I...I don't know. I don't know. It was... just a dream. Forget it, Draco."

"I want you to promise me something."

"What?"

"I want you to promise me that you'll try to get along with her. She's trying to make peace with you for something that she did not do."

I scooted away from Draco and narrowed my eyes at him.

"Are you barking_ mad_? I went out with her last night. We had dinner, we had a great time, we get a little tipsy, we go back to her place, we talk. She tells me I'm too swoony for her and I'm too in love so I can't be 'the one' for her. We have sex anyway. It was great. I wake up. Not only do I have a monstrosity of a hangover, but I see her getting her brains fucked out by some random girl. In her office. On her DESK! Why...you...and you have the _audacity _to wonder _why_ I'm _upset_ with her?" I trilled at him, eyes wide.

"That was Jenna, Hermione."

"OH! Oh that just makes it all better, doesn't it? Because you know, everyone has sex with someone they broke up with six months ago the morning after having sex with someone they met years ago and hadn't spoken to until earlier that same day and were and are supposedly obsessed with."

"Jenna forced her. She attacked Fleur. It wasn't Fleur's choice. The reason they broke up six months ago was because Jenna assaulted Fleur, Hermione."

I opened my mouth to speak. I had a witty retort, a snappy comment. I really did. But I lost it. We sat in silence for close to a minute before I managed to croak out, "Oh, please, Draco. She's just trying to cover up her mess. Don't tell me you believe that story? That's outrageous. She should be in a hospital or something if she was raped."

"Believe what you will, Hermione. But tell me true, have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?"

I bit back a laugh, remembering that one time I'd punched him in my third year, all the insults we exchanged as teenagers, all the hatred, all the dirty nicknames, all the sideways glares, all the hexes and curses hurled at each other in the hall.

"Um...Draco..."

He shook his head and laughed softly.

"Okay, well...have I given you a reason recently?"

I sighed, opening my door and getting out, holding my hand out to him. He took it and got out, closing the door and locking the car. I held his hand and we walked towards the entrance, the others having left us minutes ago.

"No, Draco. No, you haven't."

* * *

I blushed for about the millionth time during dinner, slapping myself inwardly with vicious enthusiasm as I caught myself staring at her mouth move as she spoke. She was sitting across from me, next to Draco, with Ron (who kept stuttering and choking on his food) at her right at the end of the table. Her lips were nothing like Angelina's. Angelina's were rougher, chapped, drier from the wind. Fleur's lips were soft, incredibly so. It was like kissing ice cream. Stupid, I know… Soft but firm, yielding but not without some resistance, sweet, smooth, and delicious. And, God, she was a good kisser. I found myself gagging on some chicken tandoori that had twisted sideways and caught in my throat as I saw her tongue flick out to lick her lips. I felt Harry clapping me on the back until it went down properly. I flitted my hands at him to make him stop thumping me. It was damned near impossible to stay mad at her. Damned near, but not completely impossible as I felt my anger flare up a tiny bit once more as I imagined those delectable lips on Jenna's. But it melted away as soon as I remembered what Draco had told me.

"You okay there, Herm?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

I turned my head, embarrassed, and coughed out a "Yes".

"So, Fleur, I hear that you recently designed a dress just for Kate Beckinsale?" Draco said conversationally, raising his hand slightly to get a waiter's attention.

"Yes, I did. Miss Beckinsale was a delight to work wi-"

"BLOODY HELL!"

We all turned to Ron, who was now the colour of prune juice and was clutching at his throat with one hand and fanning himself feverishly with the other. He squeaked, eyes bulging and watering.

"Anything the matter, Ron?" Harry asked, pointing his curry-loaded spoon at his best friend, "You're looking a teensy bit uncomfortable."

Ron squawked and slapped Harry's shoulder violently, his entire face contorting with pain as he drooled and shuddered.

"Get me WATER, you bloody git! WATER!"

Harry reached for Ron's glass, which was empty.

"Seems you're fresh out, mate."

A nicely directed slap to the head later and Harry reached for his own glass, which was also empty. I laughed, handing Ron my glass of water, remembering that he had no tolerance at all for spicy food. He chugged it gracelessly and continued to whimper and flail.

"CRIPES! Someone get me a fire exchanger-thing!" he wailed.

"Extinguisher," I corrected.

The waiter came over and Draco ordered some cheese balls and ice cream, which came rather promptly, probably because Ron was wailing something about his taste buds dying and how he could taste them bleeding in his mouth. He made a frantic grab for the cheese balls before they even hit the table, stuffing two into his mouth immediately and chewing and swallowing. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he moaned, slumping in his chair and heaving a sigh. He smiled crookedly and broadly at the waiter, who was chuckling, and thumped him heavily on the back.

"You saved me life, mate. Thanks," he grinned.

"No worries, sir. It's my job. Enjoy your dessert," the waiter said in his thick, rolling Indian accent, bowing and hurrying off to another customer.

The ice cream was in a small, solid cube cut into six smaller pieces. We each had our own cube. It was natural ice cream, Draco said, and it was divine. I smiled wryly to myself, reaching for my spoon, casting my eyes downward so I wouldn't have to watch Fleur's lips part to admit entrance for the frozen confection. But I cringed and watched anyway, feeling myself melting in my seat like the ice cream was melting on her tongue. I bit my tongue as she laughed softly and an "mmmm" noise just as soft and lilting as her laugh escaped her throat.

"D'you want that, 'Mione? Or are you full? Can I have it, then?" Ron asked, his spoon sticking out of his mouth.

I swatted at his grabby paws as he was already reaching for it.

"I'm going to eat it, Ron. Honestly. You are such a pig," I huffed, finally putting a piece in my own mouth.

It was definitely vanilla. Or had a vanilla flavour to it. But it was different somehow, stronger. It had a tiny hint of maybe cinnamon or lavender or both. It was bold and delicious and just dissolved. I looked up and saw blue eyes; intense, soul-searing, ice blue- not baby blue. An onslaught of...something hit me and I almost reeled; it was like being slapped in the face by icicles and a blizzard and snow but at the same time feeling warm water pouring over your head. I blushed again, blinking rapidly. I wanted to be mad at her, dammit! I wanted so badly to be, but I just...couldn't.

"W-what? Do I have something on my face?" I asked awkwardly, realizing that the two of us had barely spoken the entire dinner.

She reached forward and I felt her fingers slide against my jaw. I crossed my eyes a bit and saw her thumb going for my bottom lip. She touched it lightly and pulled back, leaving me wide-eyed, breathless, and confused.

"You did, actually. Ice cream," she said, showing me the tiny speck of white on her thumb that she quickly licked off.

I smothered a growl and stammered out an, "O-oh."

She did that on purpose. She's always known how beautiful she is and has always flaunted it openly and abused her power over people, making them swoon left and right. She was irresistible and she knew it. That evil, pompous French bitch.

"Awww...'Mione...you're taking forever to eat your ice cream. It's half melted already. Pleeeease just let me have it," Ron whined, cutting my train of thought short.

I sighed and pushed the small bowl towards him.

"Oh, fine. Take it, you cow," I muttered, "Excuse me. I'm going to the ladies' room."

I stood, pushing my chair in and heading towards the bathroom to wash my hands. I pushed the door open to see the walls painted in a bold, bright, vermilion red, two black marble sinks, and a small golden statue of Ganesha sitting between them. The bathroom was immaculate. I turned a faucet on, letting hot water run over my hands and closing my eyes and leaning against the sink with a sigh.

"Ugh...why can't I stop staring?" I muttered.

"I was wondering that myself."

"Oh, JESUS!"

I jumped, flinging tiny droplets of water as I whirled around to see her standing there, a lock of almost silvery-blonde falling into her eyes as she walked toward me. My breath caught in my throat as she closed the gap between us and swept me into a kiss. My hands fell limply to my sides, water still dripping from my fingers, but I melted against her just the same. Her hands cupped my face as she pulled away, the colours in her eyes whirling together. I stood staring into them, mesmerized, thinking of how it looked like storm clouds swirling across a bright blue sky. I pressed my face against her shoulder as she hugged me tightly, crushing me against her.

"I am such a bitch," I muttered against her skin.

"Yes," she breathed, lips to mine once more, "yes you are."

"So why are we making out in a bathroom if you hate me?"

Her mouth was against my jaw now, pressing against my pulse, finding their way back to my lips and kissing and biting and nibbling.

"I never said I hated you."

"You should."

"I know."

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do. You're arrogant and beautiful and successful and famous and narcissistic. I hate you."

"Hmm."

"Why did I listen to Draco? I was doing fine drowning myself in rage and self-pity until he opened his trap to defend you."

"Because Draco's a good man."

I wrapped my arms around her back and kissed her hard.

"I'm sorry," I muttered against her lips, "I'm sorry."

She pulled away, pressing a finger against my lips and shushing me.

"Let's forget it happened, mmm?"

"Oh, right. Because it's so easy to erase from my mind," I grumbled, slowly pushing her away, "What if you're lying to me? What if you got back together with Jenna before we met again? What if she surprised you with a little visit this morning, not knowing I'd be there? What if she found out I was there and got mad and stormed off and left you? And what if you're just rebounding and using me?"

With each decibel my voice rose, I widened the space between us, and the wounded look in her eyes intensified.

"Hermio-"

"No. No. I'm not letting you use me like this. I'm too smart for this."

She sighed heavily and turned briskly, muttering what sounded like: "Interesting choice of words" before the last of her disappeared from sight.

A rush of air and a soft creak from the swing of the door, and Fleur was gone. I washed my hands again, scrubbing at them almost violently, raking my nails across my palms. After I wiped them dry with paper towels, I tried to convince myself that the burning I felt on my skin was from my violent cleansing and not the heat of her body.

* * *

Five minutes later we were all in the car, Ron making what he must have thought were clever quips about my extended stay in the ladies' room.

"So...spicy stuff dun work well with yer system either, eh, 'Mione?" he guffawed, freckled face twisted into a laugh.

"Oh, haha, Ron. Very cute. I was having some trouble turning the sink on is all," I huffed, glaring daggers at his forehead.

He laughed awkwardly and flinched.

"Dun be eyeballin me forehead like that now," he gulped nervously.

"The sinks were a bit difficult," Fleur said softly, "mine was stuck as well."

Ron fell silent and ceased with his teasing.

"So, where we off to now?" Harry asked.

"Well, I was thinking of going to a club earlier, but I realize now that I don't really feel like it. So now I don't know. Anyone got any suggestions?" Draco said.

I rolled my eyes; leave it to Draco to change his mind last minute.

"There's a jazz club not far from here," Fleur said suddenly, "sometimes there's a live band. There's dancing, too; usually slow dancing, but every now and then they play big band or swing or something. We can go there if anyone's interested."

"That sounds lovely," Draco murmured earnestly, eyes dramatically wide, "doesn't it, Harry?"

Harry drove on, and they all conversed comfortably. The ice wall that Fleur and I had very quickly erected, however, had not even begun to sweat. I wondered if it would and tried to pretend I didn't care if it did or not, even if, in truth, it consumed me like fire. Draco sat between us in the back, but I could still smell her as if my nose was poised over her neck; the heat of her still washed over me like the frozen tide swelling over burning sands. I was surprised that steam wasn't issuing from my pores. I wanted to grab her and shake her and yell in her face that no one, **no one** hurts Hermione Granger (not even certain professional Quidditch players or lanky redheads who to this day still wonder if he was the one who "turned" me); however, the urge battled with the equally great desire to kiss her and hold her and just _fucking ravage her. _

Fleur stretched, tilting her head to the side and rubbing her own neck gently, causing the hem of her top to rise, if only by an inch, revealing a navel ring that I had somehow failed to notice. I swallowed hard. The sage green jewel gleamed mutinously at me, mocking me, nestled comfortably in Fleur's navel between her gently jutting hip bones; shadows in the hollows of her flanks called to me and I fought the urge to strangle myself to end the pain then and there. Another pang of desire mingled with severe dislike hit me like a wave of hammers when I suddenly recalled that she had told me that I wasn't enough for her. I felt my stomach clench when the car came to an unexpected halt and I nearly fell over on Draco, eyes wide and heart fluttering in my chest like a demented hummingbird. He only smiled. Fleur stepped out of the car with a sigh, muttering, "Let's go" and beginning to walk off briskly. Her black slacks hung loosely from her hips and her skin near glowed in contrast. I chewed my lip viciously.

She started walking and I just stood there, dumbstruck for a second before I started after her. I damned myself immediately, unable to tear my eyes away from her; from the gentle slope of her shoulders, the curve of her back, her hips, her ass, her legs...the way her hips swayed when she walked and made her pants ride down just the slightest bit to expose her thong. I swallowed hard and stared like I would never see again, my mind wandering in all sorts of lecherous directions. I felt myself run smack into someone. I blushed and began stammering an apology, pushing myself away. Hands only a tiny bit larger than my own held on to my wrists and I looked up, scoffing at the leering expression on Draco's face.

"It might help, darling, if you actually look where you're going instead of staring at Mademoiselle Delacour's arse, fine as it is," he whispered into my ear, holding my hand and tugging me gently into the club.

I scoffed again and tried to disentangle myself from Draco's arms. Despite his thin, petite appearance, the man was actually quite strong. He only tightened his grip and laughed, walking me into the club. The air inside the club was smoky and smelled of expensive liquor, perfumes, and colognes; the sort of den that someone like Fleur would frequent. Tucked away into the far left corner of the club was a stage; on the stage was a Frenchwoman with a voice as smoky as the air we breathed, singing "Them There Eyes." He walked towards the dance floor, still with me firmly in his grip, clasping my right hand in his left and holding my hip and swinging me into a dance.

"Fleur Delacour's arse," he giggled in a sing-song voice, "her thighs, her calves, her hips, her back, her shoulders, her arms, her neck, her hands, her face, her eyes, her lips, her cheeks. Admit it, Hermione, you want her. You're practically oozing desire all over yourself."

My face heated and I flopped my head on his shoulder with a piteous whimper that didn't seem quite drowned out by the brass band.

"Those amazing blue eyes with that tornado...nay, vortex of blue round her iris. That round, tight arse. Those beautiful, perky breasts that would be very happy to see you if you just swallowed your pride and said 'hello'. Those perfect thighs," he continued singing, "you want it! All of it! I can see it! Everyone can! Just _admit it_!"

"No!" I cried.

"You cannot deny!" he laughed maniacally, throwing me into a spin and grabbing my hands and bouncing around, forcing me to bounce with him.

"Yes I can!" I tried desperately.

"You want to lick that navel ring. I know you do. Christ, Hermione, just stop denying it!"

I whimpered again, biting my lip and praying against all hope that no one in our group could hear what he was saying.

"_Shut your_ _face, _Malfoy!"

"I bet she has nipple rings too. Hell, I wonder what else she has pierced. Does she have any tattoos? Well, I guess I shouldn't be asking _you_, seeing as how you somehow failed to notice that she has a belly ring. I can't believe you didn't notice."

"I was…drunk. My attention was elsewhere! Just stop! I hate your life!"

"Hermione, I can keep going. I can, and I will. Even though talking about a woman this way is making me a teensy bit nauseous. I will do it for amour!" he cackled, bouncing some more, throwing his head around to the music.

"You are the DEVIL incarnate!" I wailed, wiggling desperately in an attempt to escape from him.

My attempts were thwarted by the mass of swaying couples around us and I had no choice but to turn back and glare up at him as menacingly as I could. He was not swayed.

"She smells so good. She has such perfect lips. They look so smooth. And with all that drawing and sewing she does, I bet those hands are just ama-"

"All right already!" I hissed, "You damned sadist! I want her. I need her. But I hate her. But I want her. Are you happy now?"

He burst into insane laughter and almost fell over on a couple who seemed to really be enjoying themselves.

"Almost," he snickered, gasping for air, "now if you'd just tell her..."

I gawped at him.

"NO! No chance! Forget it, Draco! I absolutely refuse. No chance in hell."

He snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, you are such a party-pooper. I need to go find Harry. I need some man action. Too much talk about the female physique," he sighed, shuddering and making to go bounce off.

I grabbed his arm and held him fast.

"You are NOT leaving me in this pit of strangers!" I hissed.

He rolled his eyes again, leading me out of the mass and to safety. He dragged me over to a table where Ron and Harry were sitting, each with a drink, just talking.

"Yeah, the Tornadoes are lousy. Worst Quidditch team ever, if you ask me. Now, the Cannons, that's a real team," Ron was saying.

"Yeah, Chudley's always been pretty good," Harry agreed, taking a sip of his drink.

Draco grimaced.

"Oh, Harry darling, not sports again?" he pouted, sliding into Harry's lap and beginning to mooch off his lover's drink.

Ron patted the seat next to him and said, "Have a seat, 'Mione. You're looking mighty flustered."

He slid me a mimosa, which I took thankfully and began to sip. Ron or Harry always ordered for me, I always get the same thing anyway.

"You know, Hermione, you might as well admit," Draco began conversationally, chewing on the straw he was lolling around in his mouth, "it wouldn't surprise anyone."

"Oh, right. Admit and be made an ass of? Again? Where would it happen next, Draco, if not atop a desk? The kitchen counter? In the loo, in the sink? And with whom?" I half-trilled, glaring at him.

"Totally lost me, mate, how 'bout you?" Ron whispered to Harry across the table.

"Lost, gone, and will be lost forevermore," Harry laughed.

"I hate it when these two just go of on a diff-" Ron stopped mid-word and his jaw slackened.

I was surprised that his lower mandible didn't swing off completely and hit the tabletop. I cringed with disgust as a blob of drool plopped from Ron's mouth onto the table.

"For the love of Merlin, Ron, that's disgusting," I groaned, turning to find what it was Ron was staring at, "and it's rude to stare at pe-"

My words died in my throat as if stricken by a particularly aggressive bout of epilepsy. Fleur was making her way to the table, absently swirling her fingertip around the rim of her glass and bringing it to her lips and licking the cream and vodka of her White Russian off her perfectly manicured digit. She was making no effort to seduce anyone; I could tell because her eyes were glazed and a touch downcast. She tipped her head towards us in acknowledgement and sat down beside Ron, away from me. I watched a droplet of water pull away from the glass and slide down her nail and finger. I caught myself staring and reminded myself that she was a superficial, artificial, and untrustworthy French whore who wasn't worth my time, even if I was seconds from my insides melting and crawling to her on my hands and knees. I had more pride than that. For now.

"Are you all right, Fleur? You look a little pale," Draco asked suddenly, jolting me out of my reverie.

"I am fine, Draco, if only a little tired, non?" she murmured, sipping delicately from her glass.

We all turned simultaneously upon hearing several excited voices screech, "Fleur!" from the direction of the door. Fleur sighed, standing and turning resignedly to greet the girls, who all rushed to her, swooping in to kiss her cheeks. If my feelings of inadequacy were strong before, they were nothing short of overwhelming now. The girls were all tall, thin, and beautiful; some were golden-tan, others were fair, but all of them were fawning on Fleur. She turned back to face us, her arm around a tall woman whose hair was so black it was nearly blue; Fleur had an almost plastic smile affixed onto her face and I realized that she had lied when she said she was a _little_ tired. She looked exhausted.

"Everyone, these are a few of the girls who model for me," she said, tipping her head towards the five or so women trying to crawl on her; she turned back to us, "these people are Draco, Harry, Ron, and…" she paused- her gaze was strong and steady and cold as she caught my eye and held it, "Mademoiselle Hermione Granger."

I flinched at the formality in her voice, not understanding why she was being the spiteful one when she was the one who got caught with another woman; _she_ was the cheater, not me. The brunette at her arm pouted and nudged her. Fleur twitched almost imperceptibly, clearing her throat and saying, "This is Ana, one of my most featured models."

The woman smiled smugly, eyeing me without bothering to conceal her venomous contempt; her gaze told me clearly that she thought I was hideous and fat.

"Interesting company you've got tonight, my love," Ana purred, nuzzling into Fleur's neck like a spoiled, evil housecat, "maybe I can help…improve it?"

Fleur's already arched left eyebrow arched further and the plastic in her smile shone with sudden intensity. She pulled away from Ana abruptly, pecking the girl on the lips and saying, "Thanks but no thanks, mon ami; I am afraid that there will be no working for me tonight. Tonight is for relaxing."

Ana pouted, clinging to Fleur and ignoring her fellow models' venom-laced glares and mewling, "But, Fleur…"

Fleur tutted and pulled away again with a stern expression on her face. I saw a muscle in her jaw twitch and a golden spark seemed to glow in her left eye. She smiled and there was something commanding and a little frightening in it.

"Bon nuit, ladies. I'll see you at work," she said, taking her seat again.

They sighed resignedly, realizing that there was no winning with Fleur and trudged away slowly, Ana going the slowest. She narrowed her eyes at me in a gesture that was meant to say something to the degree of "keep off" but really just made her look near-sighted.

"Lovely bunch," I grumbled dryly, taking a particularly large gulp out of my mimosa.

"Y-yeah…" Ron gasped, eyes still wide and jaw still hanging.

"Mmm…I don't much care for Ana though," Fleur muttered, leaning forward with her head in her hands. She massaged her temples, frowning deeply; her breathing seemed a little shallow and parts of me wondered why she did that so often. It couldn't possibly be asthma attacks. She stood again, suddenly, and muttered, "Excuse me" before heading towards the ladies' room.

Draco cleared his throat a little too loudly and eyeballed me.

"What?" I demanded, taking another gulp.

"Well?" he said crossly, "What are you waiting for? Go follow her and see what's wrong."

I sighed, doing as Draco suggested. I pressed my ear to the bathroom door first, hearing ragged breathing on the other side. I felt a chill run through me as if I'd just swallowed half a field of snow. I gritted my teeth and wondered if it was Fleur breathing like that and who was doing her this time. I cleared my throat and pushed the door open, closing my eyes.

"I hate to interrupt, but-"

"Get out, Hermione," Fleur said in an unusually low voice, "Get out and don't look at me."

Naturally, I opened my eyes.

"Christ, Fleur!"

She was bent over the sink which was covered with flecks and splotches of bright red blood that seemed to be staining her mouth as well. She looked paler than ever and her eyes were not the hypnotizing, noiseless blue of a summer sky but amber. Her voice was slurred even as she rebuked me.

"You English just don't ever listen, do you?" she said, running a hand through her hair even as she swayed on her feet.

I moved to catch her and I heard her cough softly. My mind raced, wondering what was wrong with her; tuberculosis was easily cured and uncommon now, asthma does not cause bleeding- I couldn't seem to make the situation make sense. Maybe she bit her tongue or lip or something hit her. But she'd been looking ill all night. And nothing could explain her eyes to me. My train of thought was interrupted by gentle pressure on my shoulders. She was pushing me away.

"Don't," she murmured, "I'll get blood on you."

Then it clicked.

"Fleur, I- what…have you been _poisoned?_" I shrilled, arms around her waist loosely to keep her standing.

She rolled her eyes.

"By my own blood, yes. As studious as you are, I'm surprised you haven't got it all figured out by now."

_ By her own blood?_ I remembered earlier that she'd been picking up ingredients for a potion and that she wouldn't tell me what it was for other than it was a healing potion. Whatever was wrong with her had to be some sort of terminal illness, auto-immune, hereditary- something. I brain whirled like a dervish in circles, trying to put two and two together but getting five, not four. She had handed me a book earlier in the library and told me to read it. It was about Veelas, I remember; maybe her illness _was_ hereditary, a Veela trait. But-

"I thought you were only part Veela?" I asked, ignoring her half-hearted efforts to push my hands away.

"I am. But it is enough. Besides, I am Delacour. The Veela…_curse_ runs notoriously thickly through our veins."

_ Curse_. I'd never heard it called that before. Then again, I'd never personally met another Veela (whole, half, quarter, or otherwise) besides Fleur. I pulled away, tugging a paper towel from the dispenser and soaking it with water as Fleur leaned against the sinks again. I tipped her chin upwards with my fingertips and cupped her face, wiping her lips gently. She avoided my eyes.

"Why are you doing this, Hermione?" she asked.

"Because if I don't, then no one else will. Especially not you, since you don't seem to take very good care of yourself at all."

"I don't have any of my potion with me," she mumbled, eyes closed, a small crease between her eyebrows, "so I'll just have to wait this out."

"What," I began (my voice lodged in my throat and I cleared it), "what causes these…attacks?"

"Emotions," she said, begrudgingly resting her head on my shoulder when I kept nudging her head back down each time she tried to raise it, "anxiety, mood swings, depression, anger. Things like that. It's been a long day."

She took a few deep, shuddering breaths and pushed me away gently but firmly. She stepped unsteadily towards the door, paused, and began walking.

"Best not to keep them waiting," she said, "God only knows what's going through their filthy minds."

I reached out to stop her but dropped my hand; I had wanted to ask her about this morning, to talk to her, but she had fled before I had the chance. I followed behind, ignoring the fluttering in my belly and the stares that Ana shot as when we walked onto her field of vision, watching Fleur gather strength with each measured stride she took. Somewhere inside, something quivered with pity for her; thrice she had exposed herself to me, thrice she had allowed me to see her in moments of frailty and _humanity_. She was so withdrawn, I realized, that she put on this ice queen façade in front of everyone and rarely let it slip; she was to be the epitome of perfection. I suppose it's something that had always been expected of her, even when she was young; it was something she did inarguably well if not perfectly and did without seeming to question it. I wanted to hate her for it, for being such an _android_ and simply doing what she was hardwired to do; but I felt more pity for her than resentment. I had seen cry once and held her in the throes of ecstasy- hell, I had _driven her there,_ and I had held her upright when her legs and equilibrium failed her.

I rubbed at a spot of blood on my shoulder and reminded myself that I could have been there for here _four_ times if I hadn't fled this morning. I flinched against the shame of it (the shame of scoffing at her and not believing and behaving in an infantile manner when _she _had approached _me _in an attempt to explain and reconcile) and fought the temptation to kiss her legs and beg for her forgiveness. The _something_ about her that made me want to fall to my knees and worship her was the same something that made my insides boil with hatred for her in all her nearly-flawless glory and the same thing that made me want to hold her and let her melt into my arms and the same thing that made me want to throw her against the wall and fuck her until she begged me to stop. It made me love her and hate her at the same time and think that maybe I _was_ the "one" she was looking for; all the envy and hatred I'd fostered in my Hogwarts years still remained and was, lately, as potent as ever despite the fact that now it was side-by-side with a newly-confessed adoration.

I smirked, sliding into my seat and watching her lean her glorious face against her delicate hand, thinking it odd that for all her famed beauty and brains, Fleur was being really quite slow about her ordeal of finding "the one." She turned and our eyes locked and I froze like a man beneath the hypnotic swinging blade of the guillotine. She smiled weakly, reaching under the table and squeezing my knee gently. Gratitude, I suppose.

The ice wall between us had begun to melt.

* * *

**Author's End Note: **Well, there it is. Chapter 6. Hopefully it won't take me so long to get Chapter 7 up. Anyway. I'm really sorry for the wait, guys. I hope you'll find it in yourselves somewhere to maybe eventually consider forgiving me. Thanks to those of you who've stuck around and waited for this. I'd like to extend a special thank you to Ms. Mireille, whose lengthy and sincere comment was much more like a boot to the ass than an actual boot to the ass- seems that was what I needed. Thank you again for reading and see you (hopefully) relatively soon. 


	8. Chapter 7: still no beta

Author's Note:

I am very aware of how painfully OOC all the characters are, but that's just fine with me. Hell, any characterization of Fleur that shows her with half a coherent brain and of a Hermione not entrenched in horrible teen angst who seeks outlets in pandering herself quite freely to almost any man who'd take her, especially after reading HBP, could be called OOC. I'm sorry this is taking so long. My life is consistently getting more complicated.

I don't own anything. Please don't sue me, I am poor and do not have a job.

Enjoy.

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_**Fleur**_

I felt her eyes on me, watching me as diligently and tirelessly as a wolf's. Most of the time, they were pinioned on my face; why, I am unsure. However, Hermione made it a point to quickly swivel her gaze away every time I looked up to meet it. When her eyes weren't directed at the wall or at my face, I felt them wandering over the rest of me, groping and mapping as a blind man would. My face flushed and I gulped down the rest of my gin and tonic, grateful that I could use the alcohol as my alibi for turning red.

"Y'know what? I'm loaded with energy all of a sudden. Let's go. Let's get out of here," Draco slurred, eyes slightly glazed.

"That's a great idea," Hermione murmured, cherry and whiskey brown eyes meeting mine, "it is getting a bit stuffy and hot in here." With that, she knocked back her fourth shot of tequila.

"Y'know, 'Mione, it could be all that tequila you've been slammin' down," Ron said, "I dunno what's gotten into you. You don't usually drink this much at all."

Hermione stood on slightly tottery legs and laughed, patting him on the shoulder. "You've got no room to talk, you beermonger."

They stood and started for the door; I stood and I felt the floor quiver beneath me. I felt as though my heels had sunk into it, that it was made of foam. I shook my head and lifted my feet and moved on.

"So, shall we call a cab, my lovelies?" Draco chirped, pushing the door open so that a comfortable breeze brushed past us. "Actually, I should make that two. We won't fit in just one."

Harry chuckled and leaned against the wall to keep himself from falling over, while Ron eyed him incredulously.

"You've gotten a bit soft, 'Arry. Can't hold your liquor at all; just like a little sissy girl," the redhead scoffed, smirking at his best friend.

"So I can't hold my liquor too well. But at least I can hold my boner well, eh? You've been sporting that thing all night, Weasley. Someone's bound to get an eye poked out," Harry mumbled sportingly before belching at the exact same time that almost all the blood in Ron's body began to rush to his face.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head as Ron struggled to adjust his pants to disguise his erection. Draco and the once-again purple Ron stood at the curb and tried to hail cabs while the remaining three of us stood and waited, some of us less able to stand than others. I heard Hermione shuffling behind me, heard the click of her heels on the pavement.

"I've really forgotten what a kick tequila can have," she muttered, stepping forward so that I could feel the heat of her plaster my back. She sighed and stretched her arms, and I shivered as I felt her fingers accidentally graze the back of my arm.

"Boys in one cab, girls in another," Draco announced as two cabs pulled to the curb, hideous white monstrosities churning pavement beneath their tires with equally hideous drivers inside eyeing us like meat.

Hermione and I sat on opposite sides of the backseat, and the drive over there was silent save for the nearly audible thrum of the tension stretching taut between us like a drum. I cleared my throat and shook my hair out of my eyes, glancing nervously over at her leaning her forehead against the window trying to find a cool reprieve from the alcohol shooting through her blood.

"Fleur," she murmured, turning her head slowly and lazily to look at me.

"Mmm?" I replied, surprised to see that she was suddenly at my shoulder.

I felt the heat radiating off of her skin and I nearly melted in my seat, barely resisting the urge to pin her to the window. The driver eyed us curiously.

"Eyes to the road, if you please," I growled at him, meeting his eye in the mirror.

His face flushed and he made a gruff noise, reluctantly turning his eyes away just as Hermione got on her hands and knees on the seat, one hand between my knees to steady herself. I swallowed hard and she grinned, biting her lower lip.

"You look beautiful," she slurred in my ear, her breath making the fine hairs on the back of my neck rise.

"Thank you, Hermione, but we're not getting into this again. Remember the last time you were drunk?"

"What? The sex was good," she mumbled into the side of my neck, "and I am but a mere woman. Surely you can find it in you to forgive me for wanting more?"

"I forgive you, but I won't indulge you," I said softly, watching the whiskey and rosewood browns in her eyes whirl together as though a whirlwind was building up behind them. I wasn't going to indulge myself, either.

She smirked, the glaze in her eyes gone, seeming suddenly sober. "For a supposedly intelligent woman, you are rather slow," she said, clambering into my lap and cupping my face and forcing me to look up at her.

I heard the driver inhale sharply.

"Eyes to the road, Monsieur, if you please!" I barked.

He cursed just as I did, feeling Hermione's nails trailing the nape of my neck.

"You make my blood boil," she murmured, "you make my heart race. You set me on fire in places that should never burn."

I shivered and fought the urge to tell her the same.

"You excite me and you amaze me. You make me feel things no person should ever have to. You make me ache in ways that no words can describe, in ways that would make me blush to expound upon."

Her lips were drawing nearer.

"You," she said haltingly, pulling back only a breath, "are beautiful and talented and amazing and graceful and intelligent. But you are also bull-headed and arrogant and strange."

My heart would have fallen if I hadn't known all these things already. I turned my head and looked away.

"I know," I mumbled.

"You are complicated, Fleur, so complicated. Too complicated. You make things more difficult on yourself and on others than they need to be," she whispered, thumb caressing my bottom lip and making my nerves sing.

"I do not complicate my own life," I said defensively, "It has been complicated from the very beginning. I simply live it as it is."

"Even when what you want, what you need is in your face, you somehow seem to overlook it," she whispered, face as serious as I'd ever seen it before, "you somehow seem to overlook me."

"You have no idea how much I hated him that night," she continued, "him. Both of them, really. Well, all three if you count Ron. I hated Krum for not being you. I hated the feel of his stubble against my face when he tried to kiss me when all I wanted to feel was your skin. I hated Ron for noticing I was pretty only when I'd marinated my hair in Sleekeazy's for two hours when, with one glance, you made me feel like I was the most beautiful woman alive. I hated Roger Davies for being the one to dance with you."

"Hermione-" I began, but was silenced by a finger on my lips.

"Let me finish," she said softly and gravely, "I hated you, too. Maybe you most of all. You were so beautiful that night. Not that you aren't every other waking or sleeping moment of your life, but especially that night. I hated you because every time you looked at me you made all the bones in my legs turn to water, because you made my heart beat faster than the wings of any Snitch, because I got dressed up that night for you and you didn't say a word to me at all. You made me feel worthless then, Fleur, and you're doing it now."

I pulled away from her, stung, leaning back against the seat and said, "I would never, Hermione. You are not worthless by any means."

"No? The nights and days before the Yule Ball, I would catch you looking at me and my heart would soar. You smiled at me even though I glared at you; everyone thought it was because I was like every other girl and envied you, but that wasn't it at all. I was angry because you invited the boys' advances, you basked in the attention and it crushed me because, for the first time, I knew what and who I wanted and I thought I had no chance of ever getting it. You'd brush past me in the hallway and it was all I could do not to throw you against the wall. When you spoke to me your voice was warm and welcoming but then you'd turn around and flirt with some boy. I always thought that you were toying with me, pulling me to you then pushing me back and telling me I wasn't good enough. You don't think you're treating me the same way now?"

Her voice took an edge of anger and I wanted nothing more than to kiss her to quell it. It seemed, however, that all I could do was come up with a pathetic apology and excuse.

"I am sorry, Hermione. I was playing then, but I am not now. I have always been drawn to you, even before your curves found you and your hair grew more haphazardously than ivy. You were and are intelligent and I adore that about you. There are lot of people whose minds are like blades, but yours is the only one sharp enough to have ever cut straight through my charm and into me. I wanted to be with you then and I regret that I never took the chance, but I have no time to indulge myself with romances that should have been," I said, feeling my throat constricting and hearing my conscience screaming obscenities at me.

"Liar," it said, "liar. You still want to be with her."

"I'm running out of time, Hermione, don't you understand? This curse, this...disease in my blood that is my blood is eating me alive. There are things inside of me that are trying to claw their way to the surface because I cannot tame them anymore, not by myself. It is getting harder and harder every day to keep it under control, and it's been much too hard for much too long and I am running out of time."

"Tell her that you would be content to die in her arms, given that she would still be able to look at you covered in feathers and scales and blood," my conscience snarled.

I took a deep, shaky breath and looked in her eyes briefly before I felt a shrieking, thunderous pain in my head threatening to split my skull in half and I had to shut my eyes and clutch my head in my hands to keep myself together.

"Fleur?" she said, hands on my shoulders.

I felt my teeth beginning to grow to points in my mouth and I bit myself to stop the change.

"It's getting harder," I rasped, "but it's not a problem. Not yet."

The cab ground to halt and my heart fell to the region somewhere near my feet. I felt it thudding violently in my shoes and I wanted to vomit. I felt Hermione's fingers trailing against the nape of my neck as she whispered in my ear.

"I can help you," she whispered, "Just let me in."

I flinched and fished in my purse for money to pay the driver and tried to flee from the suddenly all too confining taxi and from Hermione. I wanted to breathe, and her presence was stifling. She was like a haze obscuring my vision, a fog seeping into my eyes, mouth, nose, and ears. Taking a deep and much needed breath, I tipped my head back and looked up, seeing paper-white stars dotting the ink-black night. I looked around to see where we were, where Draco had led us. I was surprised to see my own house, and the thought of it being empty and cold inside sobered me. I walked up to the gate, pressing the intercom button to buzz myself in. A maid's voice crackled over the speaker and the gate opened; I heard the others stomping up the driveway after me, I heard the delicate click of Hermione's heels against the pavement.

"Aw, bloody hell. Are we really going to have to walk all the way up to the house? Fuck, that's a long walk," Ron slurred loudly.

I headed off in the direction of the pool, thinking to clear my head in the water. They followed me, Ron talking loudly and Harry and Draco laughing at him. Hermione was silent. Soon, I saw the blue glow of the water and lights and I felt myself breathe a sigh of relief. I stripped off my heels and felt the cool cement beneath my feet. I turned around to face them and smiled.

"Anyone feel like going for a swim?" I asked, more of a statement than a question.

"I do! Blood hell, I'm hot!" Ron bellowed, breaking free of Harry and Draco and staggering towards the water.

Luckily, Draco managed to grab onto his arm and stop him. "Wait a second, tiger. You might want to take your clothes off first."

Ron turned to look at Draco and grinned drunkenly. "I ever tell you how smart you are, Malfoy?"

"But we haven't got trunks or anything," Harry said, again stating the obvious.

I smiled again, unzipping my slacks and pulling them off and throwing them onto a lounge chair and then tugging off my top. "Well, hopefully you all thought to wear underwear."

I stepped to the edge of the pool and dove in, feeling the water part to accommodate me. It welcomed me like a lover and I couldn't help but smile as I felt myself relax into a calm I had grown unaccustomed to as I felt it pressing gently all around me. In trying times, I always found that water was my sanctuary. There was a certain comfort it offered me that nothing else did; it was silent and non-threatening. It expected nothing of me and demanded nothing, it never judged me or accused me of doing anything wrong; it simply parted its waves gently as I slid into it.

Swimming to the shallow end, I broke the surface and pushed my hair away from my face. I saw Draco, Harry, and Ron already in the pool, splashing around like little boys and laughing loudly; Hermione was still laying down in a lounge chair, still fully clothed save for her shoes. My heart leapt into my throat and I grabbed onto the side of the pool, simply holding on and staring at her. Eyes distant and head downcast, it was not difficult to see that she was deep in thought or at least sulking. The lights of the pool cast aqua shadows against her fair, flushed skin and, in that moment, she looked more beautiful than anything or anyone else I had ever seen. I wanted to scream. I felt the water lapping against my skin gently as if urging me towards her and I hoisted myself out, standing and walking to her, feeling droplets of water beading on my skin and falling to the ground. She looked up at me as if transfixed. Reaching for her hand and taking it, I pulled her to her feet and against me. I felt her pulse slamming against her skin frantically like a wild animal trying to free itself from a cage and she shivered visibly as her hip pressed against mine.

"You're getting my dress wet," she breathed.

"I don't care."

I reached behind her and tugged her zipper down and pulled her dress from her skin. Her eyelids fluttered close as I ran my fingertips against her bare skin and, with a muttered incantation, freed her of her garter and thigh-high stockings.

"What are you doing, Fleur?" she whispered.

"Letting you in," I said quietly, brushing a stray curl from her eye and realizing that I was suddenly all to willing to never find The One to tame me like I was supposed to, and all too willing to just die at her feet like a dog. "I'm letting you in. No matter the cost."

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END CHAPTER 7.

Again, I'm so sorry this is taking so long. I don't even know. Please feel free to email me at or contact me. Life has been throwing me more curve balls than I can handle. I'm well aware that life is difficult for everyone, so you're all probably thinking, "Whatever" when I say that I'm sorry, but I've been going through some tough times lately. I hope you understand.


	9. AUTHOR'S NOTE

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

9 July 2008

To my readers,

Thank you for even bothering to keep up with me for so long. This story (The Way You Make Me Feel) was first released in 2003 which is...a hell of a long time ago. loL I know that I've left you all hanging for two years and, for that, I'm sorry. I am, however, in the process of completely rewriting the fic.

This story has been bothering me for ages and when I went back to re-read it, was actually appalled by how poorly it was written. So I would like to redeem myself (for my own sake, probably) by rewriting it and giving you the same fic but newer, better, and (hopefully) much better written. I'm not sure yet if I'm going to release the chapters as I write them (which is what I did last time) or if I'm going to try to finish it all first before I post. I think I'll ask you all to wait a little while longer, because I'd like to finish it and post it all for you to read. I owe you. :)

A lot of things will change- setting, characters- but the plot will remain largely the same, skewed in the same direction I had always intended. I think that for a while, I was stuck because I'd written myself into a hole and couldn't figure out a way to get out.

Some things that I'm sure I'll be asked about:

-Yes, Harry and Draco are still together.

-Yes, Draco is still unbelievably flamboyant. But I've toned it down to make it less childish and more...gay.

-Fleur is still ill. (I find it funny that so many fics center around her being veela as being an illness.)

-I'm changing the setting into the magical world. I feel like it was a mistake on my part to try to set it in the Muggle world last time.

-Post DH, but I'm going to pretend the Epilogue doesn't exist.

If anyone else has any other questions, please leave a comment or email me please don't email me to ask/harass me about when I'm updating and why haven't you updated yet oh my god I need you to update I need something to read please update soon because I'll just ignore them and probably hold off updating just for spite. However, I am open to questions and suggestions from anyone. Also, please don't be afraid to IM me- I'm surprisingly friendly, I promise. I'd love to get some personal, real time, one-on-one feedback so, really, please don't hesitate. All I ask is that you don't harass me about when I'm updating.

Thank you for your continued support. I can't give you a release date yet, but hopefully it'll be soon instead of in another two years.

Yours,

vR


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